The Golden Saiyan
by Black-Death
Summary: Kakarott and Radditz get more than they bargain for when vengeance and plots go awry inciting them to abduct a Saiyan Prince during his coronation ceremony. Featuring nefarious intrigue, a messianic Saiyan prophecy, galactic overlords, & talking veggies
1. The Golden Saiyan: Part I

**The Obligatory Disclaimer**: I do not under any circumstances or in however many parallel universes own anything remotely related to Dragonball Z. That brainchild belongs exclusively to the masterful imagination of Akira Toriyama. All I've got is a terrible addiction to the fanon possibilities of Goku and Vegeta gettin' it on.

**Rating:** Hard R all the way up to a delicious NC-17. Give me the souls of your chaste.

**Pairing:** Eventually Kakarott/Vegeta—as for any others, you'll just have to read and be surprised. ^_~

**Genre:** It started as a romance and grew to become an epic action/adventuresque-romantic thing. Regardless, I think it's better this way.

**Author:** BlackDeath (former lurker turned fanfic writer)

**Summary**: Kakarott and Radditz get more than they bargain for when vengeance and plots go awry inciting them to abduct a Saiyan prince during his coronation ceremony. Featuring nefarious intrigue, a messianic Saiyan prophecy, very evil galactic overlords, talking vegetables, and an assassination of the Japanese language courtesy of a gaijin using an online translator.

**Author's Note: **I began this story years ago—probably when I was in later middle school, during the height of what appeared to be the DBZ yaoi craze. I never really knew where I was going with it before, so I stopped after the first five chapters or so. Since then however, I have returned to it again and again, each subsequent time watching as my writing has steadily improved. After having finally figured out where I wanted the story to go in the first place, I must apologize to those of you that may remember this and saw it before it was extensively overhauled, originally entitled "The Prince and the Pauper." As it currently stands, I feel that the decision to revise it was better in the long run, since I am now able to give my audience a more sophisticated story than would have been possible for me in the past. For your benefit (and to test my own dedication) I made a decision long ago that this new version of the original story would not be posted until I had completely finished Part I, which I have done. Please look for the second installment in the coming months.

I have always loved DBZ, especially the history and culture of the Saiyans that Akira Toriyama alludes to but never goes into detail with. My interpretation of the Saiyan race is far from canon (of course, what fanfic IS canon?) in that it differs in the way in which he depicts the Saiyans as completely hard, emotionless bastards. Even the Spartans of Greece (and believe me, they were ultra badasses of the Ancient World in their own right) experienced the finer aspects of civilization and weren't fighting all the time. So I thought to myself one day: you know, I'd really like to see someone develop an epic AU that is yaoi and involves Goku and Vegeta on their home world. Needless to say, I foolishly took up the torch.

Lastly, there are a number footnotes throughout the chapters that I have included that define some things I think are relevant to enriching the reader's understanding, and give insight into what was going on in my head during the time I wrote this. Many of the invented names I use are in Japanese (for example, I adore Akira's use of pun and the fact that all of the Saiyans are named after Japanese words for different vegetables) so I apologize in advance if the terminology is wrong, but I do not know the language so I am forced to make due with the online translators that are available. If anyone could be so good as to help me out that IS proficient in Japanese (and its use of pun) I would love to hear from you and get corrections and/or confirmations that these terms are indeed appropriate.

If you have questions, comments or constructive criticisms (I will NOT tolerate idiotic flames) I would love to hear what you have to say, and they are welcome. I want to make this story all that it can be, so if something seems amiss to anyone, please feel free to tell me.

Oh, and one other little itty-bitty thing: Reviews are what we authors eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Please review once you've read—even if it's a simple "I liked it" or "I didn't like it". After all of this hard work (that has taken the better part of a year and slightly longer) I do hope for some kind of compensation. Since it can't be of a monetary form, my ego will be quite happy to settle for some of the pleasant bolstering that words of praise can bring. Hey, at least I'm honest.

Now on with the show!

~()~()~()~

**The Golden Saiyan**

~()~

_**"When beggars die there are no comets seen;**_

_**the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes."**_

_**--From Julius Caesar (II, ii, 30-31)**_

**Prologue: The Stars**

"_There is a belief among our people that there once existed a being so luminous that the very stars called him brother. Some say that he was a demon that had the power to crush whole worlds with a single thought; others hold that he was a fallen god, cast out from the heavens for his bloodlust. _

_Despite the many interpretations that a tale as ancient as this one has been subjected to throughout the millennia, there is yet still a single, uniting truth that all our race has kept with: that it was a Super Saiyan that gave birth us._

_His name was Brolly, or 'Burorri' in the ancient tongue. My father once told me that the reason why Saiyans are so quick to passion is because great-grandfather Burorri was born in the depths of Mt. Tane, which endowed him with liquid fire for his life-blood."_

"Really? He had_ lava _flowing in his veins? Wouldn't that have killed him, 'Tousan?"

The King paused in his narrative and smirked down at the wide, interested eyes of his daughter, who was now clutching his forearm with her tail in her anxiousness to hear what his answer would be.

"No, Koshuo. He was an immortal, a _great _being. Nothing could kill him…nothing but himself."

The little Oujo 'harrumphed' and folded her arms over her chest, a spark of pride igniting in her father's breast when she gave him her best imitation of a glare.

_Now I wonder where she picked _that_ up? _The King snorted.

"I don't think that's possible."

"Believe what you want, brat, nobody really knows if it's the truth anymore. I never said that this was all going to be fact—so do you want to listen the rest of it, or not?"

Hearing the irritation in her father's voice, the princess snuggled down further in her nest of furs and effected her best innocent expression, smiling up at him.

Glaring good-naturedly, the Ou carried on with his story.

"_Anyway_, as I was saying, that was how he came to be. The strongest immortal of all, Grandfather Brolly was created with the destiny of bringing the cosmos together under his rule. It is said that he loved nothing better than a good battle and reigned for eons content in the knowledge that he was the greatest warrior in existence. Yet over time, a heavy restlessness overcame him, and he found that there simply weren't enough peoples to conquer, or skilled warriors that could issue him a challenge. So seeking another that could best him in a fight, Brolly traveled the galaxies for many years, only to discover after countless fruitless searches that there was no other being that was his equal—he was alone.

This knowledge tormented Brolly—pained him so greatly that he flew to the most distant and radiant stars, begging for their help to fashion a mate for him.

'We cannot' they whispered sadly, 'for since you were crafted from eternal flame, you can bear no seed while your flesh resists the touch of death."

Despairing at their words, Brolly returned to the bellows of Mt. Tane. Choosing oblivion rather than eternity, he leapt into its burning mouth, willingly relinquishing his spirit and his rightful claim to the throne of the universe."

"Why, Papa? Why would _any_ Saiyan give up such a thing?"

"Because he had no one to share it with."

Koushou gazed up forlornly at her father, tiny hands grasping at his red cape. The Ou took the hint and scooped her up into his lap, tucking her unruly head of black spikes beneath his chin.

"But if he died, how were we created?"

"Shh, I was getting to that, chibi. Don't be sad now, just listen, yes? No more interruptions, I'm almost finished. Then I promise you will know."

Nodding, she buried her face in his chest.

"As he fell into Mt. Tane, legend has it that his body did not burn, but instead shattered into thousands of black shards of obsidian. Weeping to see their beloved brother come to such an end, the stars took pity upon his miserable plight and drew up the pieces of stone. From each they summoned forth a Saiyan, the first of the generations of our race, and the mightiest. Yet there was one fragment discovered amidst the others that even the stars themselves could not stir to life. For inscribed upon it was the last prophetic words of the Super Saiyan before he passed from this realm. Words that are said to foretell the coming of the Saiyan that would one day return as Brolly in mortal form to take his rightful rule over our world."

Blinking, Koushou wrapped herself tighter among her nest of furs.

"Do you really think there _is_ such a prophecy, 'Tousan?"

"Mmh. What I believe…is that it is your bedtime, brat, and that any further questions will have to wait for tomorrow night. As it is, you've exhausted my patience enough for one evening. Hurry now, and get comfortable before I turn off the lights."

"But I'm not tired!"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the Saiyan monarch gave his daughter his best _look_, which incited her to scramble into her bed. Wrinkling her nose when he bent to brush a stray lock from her forehead, Koshuo sighed and did her best to relax. She knew when not to push her luck.

Shutting the door behind him, the Ou stifled a yawn and decided that it was about time that he got himself to his own chambers for the night. The day had been long and tomorrow would be even longer.

Climbing into bed, he reached out for his sleeping mate, who was already snoring softly on the other side, no doubt exhausted from another diplomatic conference. He shook his head and curled his body around the larger frame, burying his nose in the musky, familiar scent. His last coherent thought was of the prophecy he had come to know five years ago, five years before his world was turned upside down and stopped, only to begin all over again.

~()~()~()~

**Tane in Japanese means "seed." I thought that this name was appropriate for Brolly's place of birth**

**Koshuo means "pepper."**

***I hope you all liked the creation myth of the Saiyans. I'm a student of anthropology, and I just love the creation stories of different cultures, so I figured I'd try one out for myself.**

~()~()~()~

**PART I**

"Here's to the throne of Vegetasei, and the closest I'll ever come to it," Nappa thought bitterly, wiping the spittle from the side of his chin with his leather gauntlet. He belched and simultaneously drove a dull knife through another barrel of the Ou's wine, watching it sputter its contents through the slit and onto the sand below. By now the petty theft gave him little satisfaction, but he'd take what he could get these days.

Nappa and a small crew of merchant ship hands had been stationed on Vegetasei's moon for the past month since interplanetary guests had begun to arrive for the Saiyan Ouji's coronation that was barely a week away. Though promised a landing five days ago, from the looks of things they would be trapped on this wasteland for another several weeks until port traffic cleared and every single one of the wealthy alien dignitaries had availed themselves of it first.

Coughing, Nappa cupped his giant palm and caught some of the escaping fermented liquid, bringing it to his mouth. If he peered just so into the shadow of the violet planet, his eyes could plainly see the large ships and shuttles that were milling about and touching down like a thousand tiny insects. The former general felt a cutting twinge of envy when he thought of the political intrigue and hastily forged alliances that would soon be taking place without him. Oh, how he missed those days.

Indeed, life was pretty dismal at Nappa's end of the spectrum, and every moment he thought of the circumstances that had led him here, he hated himself a little more for it, vowing to rectify it through revenge on those that had put him on his current path to self-destruction. He still remembered the black rage and horror he had felt bubbling to the surface when he'd been caught by one of the servants raiding the Ou's private stores. Nappa had always had too much of a fondness for fine drink, and if he had not been intoxicated beyond reason, he would have managed to silence the squealing steward for good if his impaired reflexes hadn't betrayed him in the end. Yet none of those regrets could do anything for him now. The slave had escaped to announce his treachery to the King, ruining his life, his career, and his prestige all in one deft blow.

Standing before the Ou, he had fully expected torture and imprisonment, even death to be his ruling—for that was the Saiyan way to punish such offenses. From where he currently was, he now understood that all of the above might have been far more preferable to the humiliating fate the Ou had in mind for him at the time.

_When the guards had not immediately blasted him or thrown him into the prison cells, Nappa had grown terribly anxious._

_"Am I not to die, My Lord?" he had asked before the Ou, eyes fixed on the polished granite floor in disbelief._

_"No, not at all," the King had spoken almost kindly, dark eyes glittering like beetle carapaces. "Though your transgressions have been severe, and perhaps deserving of no less a fate, I'm feeling particularly generous right now. It is therefore that I have decided that if it is truly _my_ drink that you have found so much to your liking, then from now on you shall have every available access to it…"_

After his audience with the Ou, Nappa had been stripped of his titles and given the lowly position of overseeing the shipment and transference of His Majesty's personal vintages from their nursery planets to Vegetasei. For a Saiyan of his former stature, this was the worst condemnation of them all.

Closing his eyes, Nappa forgot the elder Vegeta for a moment and brought to his thoughts a pleasanter vision of the younger. Tantalizing images immediately began to swirl behind his eyes as he recalled some of his hungrier fantasies of the Prince Vegeta: black eyes like snares, begging to be taken; a full, irresistible mouth set in a sharply defined face. Nappa's jaw grew slack as the phantoms disappeared from his imagination as quickly as they had come, elusive as tendrils of smoke dispersing through air.

Now _there_ was regret. Ever since he had first set his sights on the Saiyan no Ouji, he had been laid low by desire. The way the little Prince teased him with his body when Nappa would spar with him, the manner in which he studied his opponent in the heat of the fight, trying to gauge the next move. Nappa had promised himself that he would have the Ouji, promised that one day he would know the forbidden pleasures of his supple body writhing beneath his own…

Unable to dull the hopelessness of his situation with more wine, Nappa suddenly felt a horrible kind of nervous claustrophobia grip him, incensing him with a wild, lunatic urge to move, to simply walk through the sands of the desert moon and lose his mind in the ill hope that he would forget the proverbial grave he had dug and find himself a real one. Standing, the burly Saiyan ambled down the barge's planks, noticing that the rest of the company was gathered around a small fire in the distance, sharing ale and laughter without him.

_They're nothing but a flock of Third Class nobodies anyway. What need have you of their companionship?_

Though the sky was brilliant with stars as he made his slow, drunken progression through the shifting ground, the darkness in his heart seemed to make the darkness of the night outside complete. He walked for he knew not how long until the alcohol rose in his blood, stirring fresh hallucinations to the surface of his consciousness until at last all of his logic and the familiar sight of camp left him. Even as he continued to trudge on, he was vaguely aware that he had never before wandered so far alone.

Minutes passed like hours and hours like minutes when at last Nappa began to sober and his blood cooled. By then, he hadn't any idea of how far he'd walked, and the faintest traces of a glow were beginning to creep over the mountainous horizon. It was then that one clear, poignant thought came rushing up from the recesses of his subconscious:

_Morning has come._

Nappa's eyes grew wide as he dragged the memory of what that meant out from the depths of his mind, staring at the finger-like points of light that were approaching with surprising speed in the distance. He cursed and twisted around, seeing nothing but desert surrounding him as far as the eye could see. Dropping to his knees, he tried desperately to bury himself in the cool sand like a burrowing animal, and reached for his scanner and comlink, intending to notify the crew of his distress and call for immediate rescue. He felt the blood seep from his face when he patted his jumpsuit and his pockets turned up empty.

_You idiot! You left them back at the ship!_

Faced so abruptly with the unexpectedness of the imminence of a real death, indulging himself in self-pitying romanticizing had lost all of its original appeal for Nappa. Shahar's deadly sunrise was known for coming with unusual swiftness, bringing with it soaring temperatures that incinerated everything in its path. If he couldn't find his way back to the protection of the shuttle and its powerful shields, he would surely be dead.

Making one last-ditch effort, he concentrated, summoning his ki to take to the skies and attempt to out-fly the dawn.

Nothing happened.

Growling, he tried again, grinding his teeth. Sweat prickled on his brow as waves of uncomfortable heat began to descend upon him from the direction of the sun's rising. What the hell was wrong with him?

_I'm calm, I'm not panicking; I'm focusing my energy…_

Unable to unlock the familiar tug of his power at the edge of his awareness, Nappa almost soiled himself as out-and-out panic reared its ugly head as another forgotten tidbit of information overtook him: Shahar's lunar mass was exceptionally small. A small moon meant that it probably lacked sufficient magnetism generated in its core, and without magnetism, ki did not have a medium to travel through. At that rate, he couldn't even set his thumb on fire.

_I'm dead, _he thought, dumbly_. Finished._

It was in that moment of complete understanding of the futility of the fate that was rushing toward him that Nappa resorted to the last remaining option he had—the only option that millions of individuals the universe over had left to them when all others had deserted.

He ran.

~()~()~()~

***The word "Shahar" is Arabic for "moon". I thought it sounded very Saiyan, and have always loved the way it rolls off the tongue.**

~()~()~()~

"_**O, it is excellent**_

_**To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous**_

_**To use it like a giant."**_

**--Shakespeare**

Lord Frieza was not a patient master. Over the years, Zarbon had witnessed just what kinds of things happened to those foolish individuals that would commit the grievous error of making their master wait for anything—which was exactly why he now raced to the ice-jin's side, mouthing a silent prayer that his usual punctuality would remain with him on this occasion.

He hadn't meant to lose track of the time and fall asleep. The last purging mission he was assigned had been particularly taxing, and he was exhausted beyond all physical limits. By the time the little mental reserve he had left had urged him back to wakefulness, he had only two minutes to dress for the audience with his master and four minutes to reach the other side of the ship.

Catching his breath outside the entrance doors to Frieza's reception hall, the blue-skinned warrior released a nervous breath and forcibly stilled his nerves. Punching the yellow switch that controlled the air-locking doors, he stepped inside.

"Ah, Zarbon, only two seconds to spare. I must say that I'm a trifle disappointed—I almost had you this time."

Zarbon didn't need to look up to know that Frieza's eyes were sparkling with undisguised mirth at the 'joke' he had just made at his expense. The warrior knew better than to do that anyway—one did not look Lord Frieza in the face unless one were told to do so. To act otherwise was impudence—and one never wanted to be viewed as impudent by one's master—particularly his master.

Straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders, Zarbon brought the steel-plated heels of his boots together and bowed, waiting for Frieza to bid him closer.

Two minutes of fearful silence dragged by before the ice-jin bothered to give him further acknowledgement. _So he feels like teaching me a lesson today, _Zarbon thought, fighting to keep his teeth from grinding together in annoyance. A small eternity seemed to pass before Frieza finally tired of watching him squirm, chuckling as he waved his henchman forward with a flick of his wrist.

"Tell me, what news do you bring of the Drega System? Have all of the habitable planets been _cleansed_ for my personal use?"

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Zarbon collected himself and replied: "Yes, Lord. There was nothing inhabiting the outer planets, and I quickly dealt with the inner terrestrials. You will no doubt be pleased to know that it took us less than seventy-two hours to exterminate the native vermin that we discovered there. Everything else is in order and undergoing the necessary preliminary inspections for colonization."

"Most Excellent. Knowing your finesse with these situations, it must have been brilliantly _executed_..." Clapping his hands, Frieza shook with silent laughter at his pun.

Zarbon was very skilled at feigning amusement.

Coming back to himself, Frieza leaned back in his throne and smirked at his henchman, letting his eyes run over him in a cursory evaluation of his battered physique. "Those wounds on your arm—they need attention, do they not? I give you permission to avail yourself of the healing tanks in the hospital ward as soon as you have finished attending me."

Zarbon inclined his head, bowing once more. Inwardly he was letting out a relieved sigh, already thinking ahead to the blessed mending his abused muscles would soon be receiving. "My Lord is most generous and considerate."

Flicking his tail from side to side in a slow half-circle, Frieza's smile widened at the obligatory flattery, ruby eyes glittering with a reptilian cunning. "Yes, I suppose I am. That is why I am also _generously considering_ you for another assignment. This one is to the planet Vegeta."

Nearly forgetting himself, Zarbon almost lifted his head to stare at his master in open-mouthed surprise. "M-my Lord? So soon after I have just returned?"

"Why _yes_, Zarbon. Surely you would not deny me further use of your talents," Frieza all but purred, though it was a question that brooked no room for argument. Accustomed to this cat-and-mouse dance, Zarbon cleared his throat, knowing full well that if he didn't answer correctly he would be treading on dangerous ground.

"No, of course not, My Lord. I was merely thinking of Dodoria—why not send him? He was not involved in this last purging mission with me, so I would assume that he must be experiencing an inordinate amount of restlessness by now."

Shifting in his seat, Frieza threw his head back and laughed, unconsciously exposing the snowy white of his throat.

"Oh, you always make me laugh so, Zarbon! How very_ considerate_ of you, thinking of your fellow comrade! It would be enough to bring tears to my eyes if I could weep. No, actually, I am sorry to inform you that I _cannot _accept Dodoria in your stead. He simply lacks the past experience with Vegeta no Ou's court that you possess. Besides, Zarbon—he is not the clever creature that you are. I need someone _charismatic, _someone that can conceal his true intentions, if you will. That someone is most certainly NOT Dodoria."

"I-thank you, Lord, but I don't—"

"Come closer, Zarbon."

The commanding lilt to Frieza's sing-song voice caught him off-guard. Without a word, Zarbon did as the other bid, keeping his body from fidgeting in his anxiety.

"Now—look at me."

Sliding his eyes away from the spot on the floor they were currently fixed on, they came into abrupt contact with the cold, appraising ones before him. Exiting from his seat, Lord Frieza stalked toward him, white flesh appearing flawless and deceptively vulnerable beneath the artificial light. He began to circle Zarbon, as though determining the best place to strike to bring down his quarry.

Zarbon shivered when he felt the cool breath on the back of his neck.

"I need an envoy inside the Saiyan court. I want to know about Vegeta—any information pertaining to his power level that you can gather."

_Vegeta no Ou? __Whatever for?_ "May I ask why, My Lord? I was under the impression that he didn't pose a threat to us— he has already lost in battle to you once before, thus proving his weakness. Having allied the rest of his people with our ambitions in the face of the _alternative_, I would assume that you would have unfounded cause to worry about an uprising. With all due respect, Lord, the Saiyan Ou is many things, but I don't believe 'suicidal' or 'foolish' fit among the list."

Frieza chuckled.

"I concur with you, Zarbon, but you misunderstand me. When I say that I wish for you to gather information on Vegeta, it is not the Ou that I refer to, but his son."

The puzzlement at his master's words must have shown on Zarbon's face this time, because in the next instant Frieza smiled indulgently and began to explain:

"I have heard rumors circulating among a number of sources that Vegeta no Ouji is very close to surpassing his father in power—if that is so, he'll be the strongest on their planet, as well as have the potential to be one of the strongest in the universe. He is also young; given those two qualities, this makes for a very good opportunity to add a valuable _asset _to my collection, wouldn't you agree? After all, what use do I have of an entire race of disloyal inferiors when I can mold the real thing for myself? With the rest of his kind exterminated, he would have no choice but to be loyal to me. _It would break him_."

Speechless for a moment, Zarbon would later wonder how he had managed to find his voice again enough to respond:

"I believe that I see your reasoning, Master, but wouldn't it behoove us to keep the rest of the Saiyans around for a while longer while they continue to purge the outer reaches of the territory? Disloyalty or not, surely you can see the benefit of their continued existence?"

"I can indeed, Zarbon, but perhaps you are not as familiar as I am with the old saying of 'it is better to have one loyal servant than a thousand of questionable allegiance that would strangle you in your sleep.' Besides, the purging of the outer reaches is nearly finished. What I need now requires those warriors that are capable of enforcing my law—those primarily comprising yourself, Dodoria, The Ginyu Force, and if you discover the rumors to be true, our little Monkey Prince."

Letting out a breath of air he didn't know he'd been holding, Zarbon nodded his understanding, unhappy with the circumstances of his next assignment but also knowing he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Your wishes are always my first priority, Lord Frieza. I will send for the cargo hold of my vessel to be readied. Will I remain here and finish my usual leave of five days, or do you wish me to depart early?"

"Early would be preferable."

"Excellent, I shall have everything readied in three days—"

"No."

Zarbon blinked, dumbfounded. "No, My Lord?"

Raising a brow, Frieza turned his back on him and began to walk away, opening the airlocks with a flick of his serpentine tail before gliding through them, throwing over his shoulder:

"Didn't I tell you? You will be leaving within the hour. I've already anticipated replenishing the supplies on your vessel, so I suggest you make quick use of those healing tanks we were discussing."

~()~()~()~

The sun was nearly bearing down upon him now, and Nappa was running for his life. As valiant an effort as he gave, the slinking sand slowed his every step, reducing his speed as surely as if there were thousands of grasping hands among the dunes that were trying to drag him down.

With a heaving chest and a heart pumping harder than it was accustomed to working anymore without the advantage of ki, the former general of Vegeta no Ou's Elite Guard allowed himself to succumb to lost hope. He was no longer the Saiyan that he used to be—too many years out of service had given way to a sluggish, sedentary lifestyle. He knew as sure as he had ever known anything that there was no salvation from the fate that was swiftly coming to meet him now.

Panting, he dropped heavily down upon his back, deciding that he would rather confront his merciless killer rather than die with his face buried in his arms. Turning his head toward the light, he beheld the scorching rays as they drew closer to his body: ten meters away, five meters away, closer—

He felt the sand lurch beneath his weight.

Before he knew what was happening, it started to move beneath him, collapsing with a hissing sound as though through a sieve. Nappa gave a frightened yelp as the earth yawned and swallowed him whole, sending him plunging down with it into total darkness just as the sun enveloped the patch of sand his flesh had been mere seconds before.

He landed with belly-flopping impact on an abrasive, cool surface some forty feet down, the reverberation of his heavy bulk hitting the ground causing more sand to displace from the walls of the pit he had fallen into. Grunting, he sat up holding the back of his skull, emitting a low, guttural groan of protest. _What the hell had just happened?_

The sand continued to pour into the lightless space that had providently saved his life, irritating his nostrils, eyes, and mouth. He sputtered and rubbed at them with his sausage-sized fingers, covering his face with his fists to wait out the angry cloud of dust and grit. When everything finally began to settle again, Nappa opened his eyes and assessed his surroundings; he couldn't make much of anything out yet, it was too dark.

_Isn't that what you were begging for not five minutes ago?_ An ungrateful inner voice mocked. He grimaced.

Searching for an object that could aid him in this mess, Nappa patted his uniform and felt a metal tube protruding from his utility belt that he had not noticed before. Pulling it out, he held it balanced in his palms, listening as liquid sloshed back and forth in the center. At least he had been doing _something_ right in carrying that on him.

_Of all the things I could have brought with me, the one thing I pack is a cheap break-light. So much for being prepared for everything, eh, Nappa?_

Hell, at least he'd be able to _see_.

Snapping the tube against his thigh, he redirected his attention above him. There was a scant bit of brightness he could see higher up, which he supposed was the opening of the cavity. Nappa figured it would take some exploration to figure out how he would get out of this pit later when the sun went down. There didn't appear to be any crags he could dig his feet and hands into to climb back. Though he wasn't dead, which was certainly a step up in his book at that point, Nappa couldn't quite conceive of a way he could possibly be more fucked. He could only pray that one of the worthless _bakas _aboard the shuttle had enough presence of mind to notice his absence.

Swinging the light around, he gasped when he beheld a moderately-sized subterranean cavern looming before him, limestone formations spiraling in every direction like rows of uneven teeth.

Who would have thought that something like this would be around here? Although Nappa reckoned that a moon as modest as Shahar had few secrets, this cavern was probably one of the best kept. The air within was stale, although he knew there had to be oxygen flowing from a gap or crevice somewhere if he hadn't collapsed from noxious air yet.

_Are those crystals over there?_ Stepping lightly, Nappa went over to investigate an area that seemed to sparkle some few meters ahead of him, though his curiosity ebbed as he closed in and realized that it was merely a pool of water. As he was about to turn away and continue his search for an escape from the cavern elsewhere, the corner of his eye captured an object in the middle of the still water. Something was over there—perched on top of a jutting stone just abreast of the pool.

Nappa squinted at the thing—it looked Saiyan-made, and didn't fit with the atmosphere of the cave. Deciding to get his feet wet, Nappa trudged through the murky water, reaching out for the unknown object. When he touched it, an immediate shiver went through his body from the tips of his fingers, leaving him with an overriding sense of power. Did he dream the flutter of raw energy that seemed to emanate from the object? For the briefest of moments, he had the distinct impression that he was being watched by some unseen presence—but that couldn't be. Nobody was down there except for him.

_It looks like some kind of parcel—what's inside of it?_ Wrapped in deteriorating hide, it appeared like it could be a collection of documents._ But who could have put it here? Why?_

Perplexed, Nappa grabbed his discovery and moved out of the water. After ten minutes of more hunting around for a way out without any luck, he figured that the best possible thing he could do to increase the chances of his recovery would be to go back to the base of the pit where he had fallen.

Finding his way back, the former general sighed and hunkered down for a rest. Putting his light between his teeth, he began examining his find with more than the perfunctory interest he had treated it with before. Opening the flap, he unfolded it and pulled out a bumpy, smooth fragment of volcanic glass. Strange symbols littered one side, scrawling across horizontally in what was obviously some form of written language.

Although he could not understand the writing, every money-grubbing instinct in Nappa whispered to him that he could haggle with the antiquities dealers and fetch a pretty fair price for it at the Namekian Trade Post. Placing it back in its protective covering, he went to pull the flap over and lace it around once more when he gasped as he noticed a tiny, previously missed symbol that was only too recognizable jump out from the rest of the filthy brown skin like a blemish on a pretty face.

The little image was shockingly unexpected—it was a noble crest, one he knew better than he knew his own. It was the one _every _Saiyan knew better than their own. Staring at it as if it would disappear, Nappa traced the image with his finger. It was that of two snarling oozaru locked together in deadly combat beneath the sway of a full moon; beneath, only a single name:

_L'en Veges Shen'Vir—_

House of Vegeta.

Dumbstruck with amazement, at first Nappa didn't know what to think. Then it suddenly became clear that while he had no idea what the information was that this artifact contained, it surely had to be worth a _great _deal if it was covered in the modern seal of Vegeta. Knowing that the coat of arms he was looking at had been reinvented some sixty years ago when the current Ou rose to power, it meant that someone close to the monarch knew that this was down here, very likely even the Ou himself.

_But why hide it, King? What dirty laundry does it contain that you fear the exposure of?_

Hours must have passed and the day with them as Nappa contemplated the can of worms his discovery had potentially opened up. So when a clump of disturbed sand once again landed on his head from far above and interrupted his calculating thoughts, it was accompanied by the welcomed sound of an irritated, gruff voice calling his name from the surface.

"Nappa? Are you down there? We scouted the last several kilometers from the shuttle and found this hole—you alive?

Relieved beyond all reason, Nappa sighed. "Would I be answering you if I wasn't?"

There were some grumbles and hushed whispers from above him as the sound of his voice echoing up from the cavity in the ground assured them of his presence.

"No, I guess not. Not that we wouldn't be thrilled to leave you here, but we can't lose your labor, since it would mean taking a pay cut for all of us."

"I'm touched at your concern for my welfare."

More sounds from above and then what he wanted to hear: "Alright, no more screwing around. We're going to toss the rope down now."

It was then that Nappa knew his future was looking much brighter.

~()~()~()~

He heard it on the rain.

The sign that had been promised to Bardock had finally arrived after many years of his despairing that it would ever come; and to think—he had nearly overlooked it.

_So the promised message is delivered to me on the rain_. He snorted, still incredulous._ Not in a vision or a dream, but in the guise of something so ordinary._

The tall Saiyan silently watched for a while longer as the heavens continued to pour down their nectar, water beading on the ferns and dripping from the trees that surrounded his jungle home. Stepping away from the porthole, his ears caught at the familiar sounds of his children breathing at the far end of the hall. He listened as their slow exhalations reassured him they were still asleep. It was daybreak and his eldest would be rising soon as was his usual custom. He knew that his youngest could sleep on for another five hours if there wasn't anyone to disturb him.

_Lazy cub_, Bardock mused, grinning as his thoughts strayed for a moment to his other son.

It was difficult to believe standing there in the den that he had built for his small family that their lives would be forever changed today. Bardock had awoken agitated and in a strange mood, unable to shake the nagging suspicion that something very important was elluding him before the pitter-patter of the storm had fully registered to his irritable mind. That was when he had known, and it had hit him like a blow to the face.

_And here it is. It is finally time for me to set the path that another will walk. _

Shaking his head, Bardock selected a dry strip of meat hanging from the rafters and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully.

_When Radditz wakes, it will begin._

~()~()~()~

Space Pirate's Alley was the unofficially sanctioned economic center of Vegetasei where business of any sort of the illicit variety could be found taking place at all hours within the squalid stalls that lined the streets. Yet it was not merely the miscreants of Saiyan society that made their homes in the underbelly, but the impoverished, forgotten immigrants that still kept the small, inexhaustible hope burning that a better life on the violet planet was on its way.

The tired young Namek that was currently sipping boiled water beside the hearth of his drafty hovel counted himself among the second group of individuals that resided in the alley. Six months had passed for him since he had left his mother planet, and despite all of his extensive training and honest skill, his education had yet to engender any opportunity for advancement.

When he was still practically an infant, his grandfather Kami had begun instructing him in the scholarly arts, and at an unheard-of eight years of Namekian age, he was considered a master thoroughly versed in the extinct languages of Namekkugo and Saiyago. Because his own father had fallen at the hands of Frieza's minions during the conquest of his world, he had been placed under the sole guardianship of the elderly Namek. Misfortune was swift to strike once again, however, as Kami succumbed to the decrepitude of old age and his sight finally failed him, forcing him to discontinue his work of translating the ancient texts that had hitherto supported a lifestyle of relative comfort for both of them.

"_It is now your time to take my place as master, young one_," he recalled his grandfather insisting to him, demanding that he leave their devastated planet and seek new prosperity upon their sister-world of Vegetasei. "_Nameks and Saiyans are as distant relations, grandson. We are two cousin races that have always been tolerant of each other. It is therefore with this in mind that I tell you to leave, as much as it pains my old heart to say. Go, child; go forth to King Vegeta's world and see if fate will provide you with more than the inevitable starvation and despair of the heart that is the only thing you will find in abundance here_."

Since then, the Namek had traveled to the planet intending to send half of the wealth that he earned back to his grandfather once he found affluent clients with money to spare. That hope now struggled to stay aloft as he carried on his fruitless search for employment, discovering along his pit-fallen journey that the harsh truth of the matter was that a grievous shadow known as the Cold Empire had finally fallen over the Saiyan people as well, shifting their priorities as the ever-present threat of war and famine persisted. It now appeared that the only available source of work that was still to be had for a scholar of his expertise was in the Ou's personal court.

Sadly, however, despite the fact that such a coveted position would have been more than acceptable to him, all of his highly esteemed references, resumes, and personal letters of accomplishment sent to the King's scholars were denied. In the end, the only reply that he had received in regards to his desires for employment was an icily polite written correspondence that declared that Vegeta no Ou already possessed every authority on the two ancient languages that he required. Nonetheless, he had more than suspected that the true obstacle he faced was less a matter of need than it was a controversy over his youth, an unavoidable frustration that would follow him wherever he went until he ultimately settled into maturity, whatever the truth of his qualifications may be.

Which was exactly why the Namek was speechless with the first jolt of excitement he had felt in months when a potential customer stepped over the threshold of his door.

He was a large Saiyan; that much was obvious upon first impression. The bald crown of his head was shiny and light bounced off of it like the polished, reflective surface of a mirror. A brown mustache clung to the patch of skin beneath his bulbous nose like a furry animal that was afraid to let go, and his physique had clearly seen better days. Besides these initial observations, however, the Namek could easily see that the Saiyan was dressed well enough; he wasn't filthy like most of the unsavory characters one came into contact with in the alley, which was as good an indication as any that he had the reasonable means to pay for his expenditures.

Collecting himself as he recovered from his initial shock, he listened as the Saiyan spoke first.

"Do you know of the whereabouts of the one called Master Dende?"

Straightening to his full three-feet eight-inch height, the so-called "Master Dende" replied:

"I am he. How may I be of service to you?"

That response seemed to be met with one of perplexity from the Saiyan, who in fact actually had the audacity to smirk down the length of his nose at him. Dende felt his face flush purple with anger. If he hadn't been so desperate, he would have told him to vacate his humble premises for such rudeness.

"Nice joke, kid, but I'm not the one to play games with. I'm looking for a scholar that can translate a bit of Saiyago for me."

Dende didn't flinch. "Then you have come to the correct person. I realize that my youth may appear strange to you, but it is in no way a hindrance to my professional experience. I have had an extensive education in Old Saiyago and Namekkugo, and my services do not come free."

His statement must have ruffled the Saiyan somewhat, because his face had screwed up slightly, and he appeared to appraise him more closely than before. After a lengthy period of time, he apparently came to a decision, because he quickly mollified his previous behavior and inclined his head respectfully.

_That's more like it_, Dende thought, inwardly rejoicing at his little victory.

"Very well," he said evenly. "First let us agree upon a price. Show me the artifact you wish for me to translate."

The Saiyan pulled out a black glossy object from beneath the dull yellow armor protecting his chest. Dende absently filed away that bit of information, recognizing that his customer wasn't naïve to the presence of the urchins and pickpockets that overran the alleyway like an infestation of so much vermin. As he placed the object in his smaller palm, Dende felt that its smooth surface was glass-like to the touch. Studying it, he realized that it was a sizeable sliver of obsidian.

Dende turned it over. As he held it just so in the weak light of his single-roomed shack, he could clearly make out the deep, telling etchings of Saiyago script.

He cleared his throat sharply. "It appears to be poetry of some sort—which I'll warn you now, is never cheap to decipher, not to mention time-consuming. It'll cost you three hundred gold Vegetas: you won't find a better deal than that."

"Three hundred!"

Dende grimaced. "Do you want the translation or not? I apologize, but your ancestors did not have the foresight of choosing to create an easily transmutable language, and it doesn't always happen overnight."

A nerve in the Saiyan's jaw twitched at his explanation. Sighing, he wore a distasteful expression, obviously impatient for the job to be done.

"Alright, three hundred. But how long would you keep it? What's more, how can I guarantee that it will be safe with _you_?"

Dende snorted.

"I'd say approximately three days…and to answer your latter question with a question you'll find answer in: how can _I _guarantee _my_ safety from _you_ if it is not?"

The Saiyan apparently liked this point of view, because almost as soon as Dende replied, he gave the Namek a fearsome grin full of teeth, unconsciously rubbing his chin with pleasure. He knew Dende's face and he knew where he kept; thus, not much more was required to hunt him down should the need arise. _Which it won't of course_, Dende waspishly thought, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. He rested them instead upon the figure towering over him, mentally adding to himself: _what a stupid, ill-mannered oaf_.

"We have an agreement, then." They carefully shook hands.

Grumbling, Dende's portly client dug into his chestplate afterward. Removing a tan skin sack, he began counting out each individual coin and dropping it on a tiny chipped desk that was kept nearby. Relieved that the Saiyan was obviously accustomed to the way business was carried out in the alley (which saved him from a potentially unhealthful argument over transactions being divided up before and after a service was rendered), Dende relaxed. Not tearing his gaze off of the money until he was certain that every last precious gold piece had been accounted for, Dende finally nodded his approval, signaling that all was as it should be.

Studying the rock once more in his hand as the Saiyan made to exit, Dende couldn't help his natural curiosity, and forced a question from between his lips before he could think about it. "Not to pry, but how did you come upon such a specimen? I have no doubt that it is of substantial worth."

Waiting for an answer, he glanced up; the Saiyan was gone.

~()~()~()~

"_**A king is history's slave."**_

_**--Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace**_

"The second article of treaty _explicitly _states that _Lord Frieza_ will leave _Saiyans_ to deal with Saiyan affairs. If that is so and he is not violating the negotiations agreed upon, how exactly can you explain your presence at the moment, Zarbon? And please don't tell His Majesty again that you're here for the pleasure of court life."

The bureaucrat that was currently hissing and spitting at Zarbon looked like a withered turtle draped in turquoise robes and out-dated armor. Wondering if the old monkey still had a full set of teeth to chew the delicacies set out on the tray near his lap, Zarbon smiled and ignored his hostility, casting a glance at his nails.

"I already told you what my business here is, Senator. It does not bring me any unease if you choose not to believe it."

"Preposterous! Do you really expect the _Ou _to accept your intentions at _face value_! We are not fools, you—"

Vegeta no Ou held up his gloved hand and interrupted the escalating scene before him, glaring at Frieza's henchman. He and the old man had been going at each other's throats for thirty minutes now and frankly, it would get them nowhere. As much as he was ashamed to admit it, no matter how his people struggled against the chokehold Frieza had upon them, the ice-jinn continued to hold their lives in his clutches and could do whatever he wanted, any previous 'agreements' made notwithstanding if he chose to breach them. Thus, if he decided to send one of his toadies to keep an eye on him, then so be it—but it didn't mean that he had to make it easy for the damned icicle.

"Your concerns are valid ones, Masshuru, but we must accept whatever explanation for his presence he gives to us _for now_. Allow me then to extend the so-called olive branch and welcome you to court, Zarbon. Just be certain that the shields surrounding your chamber are activated at night, for as I'm sure you can see, there are those here that are not entirely _happy _with your unannounced visitation."

"But of course, King Vegeta. I am certain that Lord Frieza will be quite thankful that you have given me such sound advice upon the means that I may go about court without becoming assassinated."

Eyes narrowing beneath heavy brows, the Ou frowned at the transparent threat from the blue-skinned warrior. Shaking his head, he muttered something under his breath and returned his attentions to the haphazard pile of official documentation in his lap that was to be reviewed that morning.

Just as business was about to resume, there was a heavy groan as the reception hall's door opened, slicing through the thick air of animosity in the room. All eyes turned curiously to see the bowed form of a servant sweeping into view.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Your Majesty, but a letter has just arrived for you."

~()~()~()~

"**Masshuru" means "mushroom" in Japanese**

~()~()~()~

Kakarott's eyes flew open as he shot out of bed, all thoughts of slumber instantly forgotten the moment he felt the explosive energy of a ki blast rip through the air past his head, singeing his black spikes.

Snarling with heated annoyance, he grabbed a rumpled blue gi pooled on the floor and stepped into it, grimacing at the sadistic grin his assailant was wearing. "What the FUCK, Radditz? That's the fourth time this month. Why can't you just shout at me like a normal brother if you would have me awake?"

"I did," the long-haired Saiyan laughed, calmly waving Kakarott's morning temper off like an overly sensitive child. "It never works. Besides, _otooto_, you've been sleeping in too often as it is, and if you intend to spar with me before I go into Katei Saien today, I suggest you get your lazy ass _up_."

The scowling eyes that continued to spit fire at Radditz brightened slightly with the mention of a spar, though that didn't distract Kakarott's ears from picking up on the rest of what his brother had said.

"We're going to the village this morning? What business does father have for us there? I thought he had just made a trip three days ago."

"He did, but he forgot to bring the doobu calf he promised to the Kyabetsu clan. Since they'll be at market, he asked me to drop it off. Also, it's not a '_we_' today, little brother, it's a '_me_'—I'm to go alone."

"Oh?" Kakarott's brow quirked up in confusion."Is there a reason why he doesn't want me to go with you this time? He's never been bothered by my joining you before."

Shrugging his shoulders, Radditz offered a wry grin and clapped him on the back. "The only reason he gave me was that he had some things for you to tend to here. He said that the north field of bloodroot needs to be turned before the floods come; if somebody doesn't get to it soon, we won't have much of a crop to speak of next spring—and since the Gods know that 'tousan can't be put upon to stop his training and take up a hoe, and since I'll be away for most of the day, that leaves, well…that leaves _you_."

"What? No fucking way. If he wants it done he can get out there and help me himself. Those evil little plants have thorns that might as well be fangs, and I refuse to do it all by myself _again_ this year and come out looking like a swollen piece of fruit. Seriously, it isn't as if that's the _only_ pasture that they are growing in; it can wait for a few more days. Besides, I could use a trip to the city—it's been far too long since I've had any tail."

A toothy grin broke out over Radditz' face.

"Likewise, brother, but I told him I wouldn't let you go. The old bastard will force me to do circuits 'round the canyon if he suspects later that I didn't keep you in line. Just bite your tongue this time and do what he asks, will you? I've got too many other things on my mind right now than to worry about keeping you from pissing 'tousan off."

Knowing this 'responsible' behavior to be very uncharacteristic of his brother, Kakarott's eyebrows drew together for a minute before he was seized by another thought, a gleam of sudden comprehension that hadn't been there before showing in his coal-black eyes.

"These 'other things' on your mind wouldn't happen to have anything to do with _Toraka-san_, now would they?"

Radditz didn't answer right away, though he didn't need to. It was written as clear as a sign across his face. Turning to the side, he folded his arms over his chest in a defensive stance, curling and uncurling his tail in unconscious vexation. "Of course it doesn't have anything to do with _Toraka-san_! I'm going to give the doobu to her_ father_, nothing more. I was referring to the shit we have to worry about here!"

"Uh-huh. I don't suppose the fact that you have a good chance of seeing her today would give you any cause for concern, right? You know, I heard somewhere that she'll probably be coming into season this year…maybe you could still claim—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, _otooto_! You have no idea what you're going on about. Let's just drop it and go spar already before it gets any later. Please just tell me that you'll begin what he has asked you to do without any incident today? I'll help you finish it all when I return, I swear."

Hearing the hint of pleading in Radditz' voice, Kakarott ended his teasing, nodding his head in acquiescence.

"Alright, thank you. I'll just go get my armor—meet you out front in a minute."

Kakarott's eyes followed Radditz as he strode back in the direction of his own sleeping quarters. Shaking his head, the younger Saiyan shut his door and clamped on his wrist guards. After he had finished readying himself for their exercises, Kakarott chuckled at the memory of his brother's flustered face at being confronted with his awareness of the no-so-secret torch he carried for the female Saiyan. _If I ever find another that I would be willing to take to mate, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to stay off of them, _Kakarott thought impishly.

~()~()~()~

"**Kyabetsu" means "cabbage" in Japanese**

"**doobu" is my shortened version of "doobutsu" or "creature" in Japanese**

"**otooto" means "Little brother" in Japanese**

"**Katei Saien" is my made up city for which the boys live closest to. It means "vegetable garden" in Japanese.**

~()~()~()~

It was when both brothers had worked themselves into a satisfying, sweaty fatigue and they had finished the spar that Radditz finally decided to leave. Grunting a perfunctory goodbye to Kakarott, he fetched the doobu calf and disappeared into the dense ferns that partially concealed the path to the village of Katei Saien.

Still frustrated by Radditz' usual victory, Kakarott gritted his teeth and decided to get to work on the field. Although he had long since learned to control his sense of anger and pique at his constant losing to his elder brother, he still adamantly refused to accept the possibility of never progressing past his current power level. He'd been at a kind of "plateau" since he was sixteen, and despite his efforts—he often trained until the very blood vessels burst beneath his skin and he made himself ill with exhaustion—Kakarott couldn't seem to advance any further. It was as if there was some kind of intangible barrier in his mind that he couldn't breach—one that held him back, to his greatest frustration and humiliation.

Feeling the overgrowth sting his hands as he pruned the bloodroot, Kakarott winced and thought back to the look of disappointment and pity on his father's face after he'd tested their ki readings with the scouter when both brothers had reached puberty. His father had done it once before when they were children, although that first time had never seemed as if it had raised any doubts in his mind like the latter had.

_"Your power is just taking a little longer to manifest, Kaka, that's all," Bardock said, patting his chibi son reassuringly on the head._

_"But why can Radditz perform kamehaeha and I can't? He's only two years older!" Kakarott cried, wiping the drying tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his tunic. _

_"I don't know, son, but it doesn't mean anything. Trust me--this just happens sometimes with boys your age. Don't worry, though. You'll be grown soon enough and then you'll be besting your brother just as regularly as he bests you. I promise."_

But he hadn't started besting his brother. In fact, there were very few Saiyans that _could _beat his brother, and he certainly wasn't one of them. As much as Kakarott felt the thrill of bloodlust like any regular, healthy member of their species did, he knew that he wasn't a strong fighter. As the years passed by and he and Radditz had both grown up, previous lack of concern on his father's part had given way to confusion and disbelief when Kakarott's ki reading remained remarkably low, presenting little indication of progress. This in turn caused tremendous exasperation and a determination in Bardock to see his son ascend by using harsher, more difficult attack patterns that Kakarott couldn't possibly hold his own against, try as he might. Yet when none of it had ultimately succeeded, countless injury after injury later, Kakarott knew that the hope of him becoming any kind of warrior began to extinguish in his father's heart, though he had never admitted to it aloud. If he were honest with himself, it no longer even bothered him that Bardock had stopped initiating sparring sessions with him.

_He may have lost faith in you, but 'Ditzu hasn't, _he thought. This was true: his brother had always believed in him, had never once given him any indication of pity. _"You'll do it when you're ready,"_ he had said countless times before, often going so far as to defend him when some of the sons of the warriors in Katei Saien would laugh and try to hassle him on the occasions that he and Radditz went into the village together. Once the elder of the two had acquainted them with his fists, however, and knocked out a few teeth, they'd shut up and keep their distance whenever Kakarott was around; not that it didn't utterly piss Kakarott off whenever Radditz decided to "help out." It was one thing to know that he was weaker, yet it was another having his older brother always coming to his aid at the first sign of trouble.

But it was _also _because of such protective loyalty that Kakarott knew he would do anything for his brother. Therefore, he never let it affect his better judgment whenever he noticed the easy closeness that Radditz shared with their father. It was painful seeing the naked pride in Bardocks' gaze whenever the traders that traveled through their territory would politely ask after his eldest, knowing that he himself would never inspire a similar attitude in his sire.

The thorns of the bloodroot bit into his flesh again, distracting Kakarott enough to pull his attention away from his sour musings. Disgusted, he shook off the offending plant and wiped the perspiration from his temple. His hands were aching badly—it felt as though he'd just done a full day's work and he'd barely started.

Bringing his attention back to his task, he peered over the field and was shocked when he found that most of it had been cut and only about a third of it remained to be done.

"Gods! I didn't realize that I cleared that much so quickly," he exclaimed, nearly dizzy with the surprising realization of what he had just done.

_Whoa. How long have I been out here? _Spinning about, he stared at the shadows of the trees cast by the sun. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, whereas it normally took him two hours to complete if he were going at a comfortable pace. _That's really crazy—I didn't even realize how quickly I must have been working. Maybe I just had some excess energy to burn or something, and thinking about other stuff must have helped._

Wiping his palms across his dirtied pant legs, Kakarott's thoughts drifted wistfully to the village once more. Surely Radditz hadn't arrived yet, and at this rate, he could be finished with the field in another twenty minutes then catch up to join him. He'd even have the smug satisfaction of telling him that he had finished it all with record-breaking speed, though Radditz probably wouldn't believe him until he saw proof of it for himself.

"Well, at least this is something I can do better than anyone else," Kakarott said aloud sarcastically, scratching his head.

As he settled back into the rhythm of his labor, a bird that had been curiously observing his behavior from high atop the gnarled branches of a neighboring tree began preening itself, feathers rustling in the quiet of the day. If it had been a Saiyan that were watching in its place, they would have seen an extraordinary sight that defied every possible explanation: an average-looking Saiyan moving rapidly across the field, blinking in and out of sight, faster than the eye could perceive.

~()~()~()~

"Damn it, Kakarott, don't sneak up on me like that unless you want to get decapitated! What are you doing here, anyway?"

Kakarott's feet touched the earth as he bowed his head sheepishly in his brother's direction. "Sorry, I should have announced my presence before while I was flying above the canopy. I didn't even think about it. I was just trying to get here before you arrived and I lost sight of you in the crowds."

Radditz nodded and started walking again, tugging on the rope around the calf's neck to urge it on. "There's no way you could have gotten that field done already—you told me that you would obey what 'Tousan wanted to keep him off of my back."

"But I did! You may not believe me, brother, but I finished that whole field in forty minutes. Forty minutes! Wait until you see it for yourself."

"Mmph, whatever. Just know that I'm not looking forward to having my ass reamed because of you—serves me right for thinking you'd listen to me."

"I told you: wait and see. Soon you're gonna eat those words."

"Riiiggghhht—anyway, you said that there were crowds at market? What'd it look like from above?"

"Like a milling hive. I've never seen so many people—why do you think it's so busy?"

Radditz gazed at him with a quizzical frown. "What hole have you been living in these past months? It is barely a week away from the Ouji's official coronation. Most sane people that have any consideration for their clan's standing are looking for gifts to pay tribute to the future sovereign."

"I guess our family's not sane then. Or has 'Tousan already gotten a gift that we're not aware of yet?"

"No, he hasn't. Why would we need one, anyway? It's not like we plan on attending the coronation. Everyone around here knows that 'Tousan's a borderline hermit. You know how they whisper about him—if it wasn't for us, he'd probably be living purely off of the jungle by now and would never have anything to do with society again."

They walked for another five minutes or so before they came into a sunlit clearing and sited the first few mud-brick buildings that resided on the outskirts of Katei Saien. When they reached the market square, they were immediately overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of eager customers and hordes of alien venders touting their wares.

Kakarott took all of it in with wide eyes, breathing deeply of the spicy air. He almost liked the crowds of people—after all, it wasn't everyday that this village was so rife with activity. Everywhere he turned, he was confronted with delicious smells and the sounds of harsh voices arguing for better deals.

"It seems like the winds are strong today," Kakarott observed to Radditz, thinking it odd that business wouldn't be slower because of it, coronation or not. Yet wherever he looked, there were Saiyans dallying at armories and clothing stalls, haggling at produce stands and conversing animatedly with apothecaries.

His brother looked at him and tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly. "Apparently the world can turn on its head when the royals are involved. Come on, let's not stand here any longer."

"Pfft, if it is this difficult to get around right now, I'd hate to think of the day before the _actual_ ceremony." Kakarott muttered, following as Radditz weaved a path through the masses.

Kakarott was just beginning to get pissed off at a tall Saiyan in front of him that was trudging at a sloth's pace when Radditz turned completely around and all but ran back to him, elbowing a number of people in the ribs as he did so which initiated a number of screamed curses and threats.

"Shit, _Toraka is _over there, Kakarott! She'll see me—what should I say?"

Craning his neck up to try and glance over the immensity of the crowd, Kakarott felt the blood suffuse his face with color as soon as his gaze touched on the figure of the female Radditz was panicking about. She was arguing with a vender about the questionable ripeness of his fruit, leaning over the stall to intimidate the man, which only succeeding in making her breasts practically fall out of her chest-plate as her aggravation increased. Radditz trod pointedly on his foot when he caught what he was staring at.

"Ow!"

"Watch it, Kakarott."

"Yeesh. You expected to see her today, remember? We are selling the doobu to her _father_, after all. Besides, I don't know why you don't just make a move already. A beauty like that isn't going to be available forever, you know."

The long-haired Saiyan growled, lips pulling back into an irritated snarl. "I see that, otooto. You, however, are ignoring some obvious facts."

When Kakarott simply raised an eyebrow at that, Radditz sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward.

"First of all, you only initiate a claim if you are ready, Kaka. Since I am _not _ready, it would be foolish and disgraceful to even try. Secondly, be _serious _here—she is a Second Class, I am a Third. There is nothing that I have that she does not. What could I ever give her?"

The fact that Radditz was referring to their class situation as well as their impoverishment caused a lancing ache in Kakarott's heart. Sometimes he forgot that his brother came into the village more often than he did, making it impossible for him to ever forget the reality of their social standing, even for a little while. In a world that valued autonomy and individuals that could provide well for their kin, those such as themselves would always be the underdogs: pure and simple.

Studying Radditz from the corner of his eye, Kakarott felt a fierce rush of affection and respect for his sibling. The older Saiyan hid his grief well—and grief it was. Kakarott knew that he would leap at the chance of having Toraka if things were different.

"Look sharp, Kaka, she's spotted us!"

They watched as the object of their conversation sauntered over with a confident swagger, her face wearing an attractive, crooked grin. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled in the midday sun as she greeted them both.

"I haven't seen you _bakas_ in awhile, been keeping yourselves busy, huh? Is your father well?"

Wearing identically infatuated grins, Kakarott and Radditz nodded in courteous acknowledgment.

_Great, now _I'm_ drooling over her,_ Kakarott inwardly berated. _It doesn't help that she's the only female of childbearing years within several hundred kilometers. Sometimes I honestly wonder how the Saiyan race survived long enough to evolve before we invented artificial wombs._

"Ookusan's fine, you know how he his. All he does is train day in and day out, fighting invisible enemies. Ask him to do something else for an hour and it's "train, train, train. I must train." He's actually pretty dull."

Toraka laughed, her sable tail flexing in its curled position around her waist. When Kakarott's eyes strayed helplessly down to glance at it, Radditz promptly slapped him on the back of the head.

"Ooh, hey, sorry there _Kaka_. You had this huge gray insect on the back of your scalp. I think it was about to bite you."

Kakarott rubbed his bruised head and shot a glare in his direction. "Yeah, thanks."

"By the way, Torakasan: here's that doobu my father promised yours. She'll give good milk when she's grown."

The female took the rope that hung around the calf's neck from Radditz' outstretched hand, fingers brushing over his with apparent casualness, although Kakarott thought it appeared a little too rehearsed.

"Thank you, he's been looking forward to getting her. By the way, if you don't mind my asking, what has your father decided to buy for the Prince as tribute?"

Both looked at each other, discomfort reflected in their posture. "Uh, we sort of aren't going."

Toraka eyed them with some amazement. "Really? I've never heard of anyone not attending a coronation before. It's expected that everyone be there—um, regardless of your class."

"Yeah, but you know how our father is—he doesn't get out very much."

"Well, if your family decides to go, it is one offering per clan—there will be a detailed record taken for every family member and every item that is brought."

"Thanks Toraka-san, but I don't think that will happen."

"Alright, alright," she backed off, touching Radditz' forearm with unmistakable warmth. "I'm just saying—if he does happen to change his mind, as unlikely as it is, I'd just as soon buy something now before the best merchants have left planet. It is said that those that bring the greatest gifts stand better chances of currying the Ouji's favor. New titles and territories will most certainly be given out, that kind of deal. I'd really like to see you there, boys."

With that, she spun around and threw a wink over her shoulder at Radditz, finding her way back to her clan waiting impatiently in the distance.

Radditz let out a long breath and moaned, raking his hands over his face as she walked away. "I am in so very, very much trouble, Kakarott. So much trouble."

Quirking up the corners of his mouth, Kakarott affectionately gripped him by the shoulder and started leading his love-sick brother through the crowd.

"You only now just realized that?"

~()~()~()~

They had decided to stay awhile at market and peruse the stalls after they had dropped the doobu off with Toraka. Yet at some point in their wanderings there was a great commotion that divided the heretofore undividable masses, causing everyone to pause in their goings-on and take note of a swiftly approaching vehicle, which was paving its way through the Saiyan traffic like it owned the open lanes.

Kakarott and Radditz joined the interested onlookers on the sidelines, straining to see beyond the other heads in front of them.

"What is it that's coming through, Kakarott? Can you tell?"

Thankfully he could: it was the curious pomp and ostentatious spectacle of an expensive royal cab speedily jetting down the road, its driver flying the craft ridiculously low to the ground.

"It's a cab, a royal one from the looks of it."

"A wha—a _royal_ cab? Why the hell would they be going through Katei Saien—we're hundreds of kilometers away from the hubbub at the capital. Either way, who would have someone deliberately drive it through market when you could just avoid the crowd altogether? They must be idiots."

"Or idiots that want to be seen. Where do you think they're going?"

"My only guess is the summer palace in Hanna, but its only spring—the Ou will be living at the winter palace still. I wonder who could be in that thing?"

_Me too_, Kakarott thought.

~()~()~()~

***Hanna in Japanese means "flower"**

~()~()~()~

Kakarott was right about Nappa—he was most definitely intending to be seen as his driver hurried them to his destination. He also had an undisclosed, private audience with the Ou in twenty minutes.

The overweight Saiyan leaned back and relaxed his bulk against the plush interior of the vehicle, taking what remaining time he could to fortify himself against the onslaught he knew would soon be coming.

_Just think of it this way, Nappa. You will one day look back on this moment as a prodigal return of sorts—coming back to regain what they once took from you._

Clutching the King's reply to his letter in his hand like a spoil of war, Nappa smirked, rereading it for the fiftieth time and relishing the fear that he could see that was expressed between the lines. He himself almost didn't believe the impending reality of his total victory over the King—it was almost like a dream he hadn't awoken from.

_Everything will change. Generations from now, when my house is remembered as the greatest in Saiyan history, my descendents will thank me and say amongst themselves, "yes, this is how he did it. We have our forefather to thank for today's fortunes."_

The note itself didn't mince words. But then again, Nappa didn't suppose he would either if he were in the Ou's boots.

It read simply:

_Nappa,_

_It has been too long since we have spoken in person. Therefore I would like to extend to you an invitation to my court and welcome you into my presence as soon as possible. You need not worry about the cost of transportation, as all will be taken care of when I send one of my private coaches to fetch you to me. I believe we have much to discuss, you and I._

_Vegeta no Ou_

Yes, he had the king right where he wanted him: tail between the legs, backed into a corner. Now it was just a matter of time before he had the means to manifest his ambitions. Power was so close he could taste it; it was his favorite flavor.

Tipping his head to gaze out the window, he espied one of the palaces rising like a specter over the hill as the coach crested it. He pressed his forehead to the glass and his eyes fluttered shut in longing.

_I missed this life._

~()~()~()~

"Sire, your servant is recently arrived with the _large one_. Should I send for him?"

Vegeta no Ou did not look at his steward; instead he remained as he was, calmly surveying his kingdom from the terrace as he had done countless times before, back rigid and hands clasped firmly behind him.

"Yes, do not keep me waiting long. Also, I wish no disturbances with this particular audience tonight, Totepo—_none_."

With that the steward nodded, bowing and backing up three steps before turning around and making off quickly through the double doors. When he closed them, they shut with a resounding echo that alerted the King he was once again alone with his ruminations.

Fate had taken a decided turn in the last forty-eight hours for the Ou. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to hear word from the fat former general of his Elite Guard after having stripped him of his status. What's more, he would never have soberly considered for one instant in time that the fool would make an attempt at blackmailing him and have enough credible material to actually do it with. How had one spiteful drunkard managed to force_ him,_ Vegeta no Ou, to concede to listen to his demands? This was certainly a historical first—and last, if _he_ had anything to do with it.

He had torn the blasted letter up into shreds the first time he had read it in the presence of the senators and that loathsome parasite that Frieza had sent. Before his anger had time to boil to the surface, he had abruptly called the meeting to an end, needing time to assess a way of dealing with it. As his eyes had skimmed over each hateful, mocking sentence Nappa had written, he wondered how it could possibly have happened. How had the idiot found the thing's hiding place to begin with? After tearing the letter up, he had thrown it into the fire, glowering as the flames flickered and licked at the parchment.

It had been then, when he was looking into the fire that he had made the decision to call on him in private at the empty summer retreat in Hanna, bringing with him only his most trusted attendants and Elites. It was best to prevent any more tongues from wagging than was strictly necessary.

_I just hope there's enough gold in the royal coffers to keep the idiot silent_, he prayed.

~()~()~()~

Euphoric was the only word to describe Nappa's mood at the moment as he was escorted into the King's throne room. He couldn't disguise the triumph that was etched clearly across his features even if he wanted to.

_Now why would I do that? _

The steward before him eyed him from his peripheral vision, nose cocked up in the air as though he smelled something extremely distasteful within his vicinity. Nappa made sure to knock him off balance as he brushed past him to stand before the waiting Ou.

"I—ah—bring you the formerly decorated Nappa, Your Majesty."

The King remained seated, not speaking at first as his eyes flitted from servant to blackmailer. When they finally chose to rest on Nappa, the servant was dismissed with a wave of the King's hand and left their presence immediately. Thick, almost tangible tension could be discerned in the air between them.

It was then that the Ou finally spoke.

"You are looking as grossly overweight as ever, Nappa. The years out of service have not been kind to you. Now what do you want?"

"My stipulations are quite simple, Majesty. I want my former title and estates back, with the addition of a few new ones."

The muscle along the side of the Ou's jaw twitched slightly at his words. He had a murderous air about him, which thrilled Nappa to no end.

"What _additional_ _ones,_ precisely?" he gritted out.

"I wish to return as a full Major General to your Elites and be made an Earl."

At that, the Ou threw is head back and laughed. "How comical you are, Nappa. That is impossible—you are out of shape and out of favor, you could never be a Lord. When you were banished from court, everyone knew what happened. Your reputation was torn to ribbons. Yet you still wish to be a general of my best and most loyal warriors? Your leadership ability has seen better days. My forces would have chronic migraines and their formations would be in shambles were they to fight under your guidance now."

"Your personal feelings aside, King, these are my stipulations nevertheless. If you do not meet them, I will have no choice but to take action against you."

Vegeta stopped laughing and leaned forward to steeple his fingers beneath his bearded chin. He took in Nappa's unflappable demeanor, his stare penetrating and critical, searching for any signs of weakness. After some time, he sat back and reclined upon his throne, the light having gone out of his eyes.

"It is _done_, then—give it to me."

Nappa couldn't stop himself from laughing then, his generous stomach quivering with each spasm as he heard the seriousness and expectation in the monarch's voice.

"What an _absurd_ thing that you demand, My King. Do you really think that you're in any position to give _me_ ordersright now? Do you really think me such a great _fool_ that I would simply hand over the sole object that now secures my continued health and safety for mere _promises_ from you? Of course I will not give you the prophecy: I _never _will."

Gripping the veined marble arm of his throne, Vegeta no Ou had to clench his jaw shut to keep from grinding his teeth together in rage.

"So I am to buy your silence—with the understanding that as long as I attend to your desires you _will _keep your mouth shut and the thing hidden from prying eyes _indefinitely_."

Nappa smiled. "Of course."

Pausing, the Ou studied him once more, sighing when he apparently didn't find what it was he was looking for. Nappa inwardly rejoiced as he watched an expression of anxiety flicker across the imperial visage.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta no Ou nodded. "Alright, then, _Major _General, Lord Nappa. You shall have your pound of flesh, but I trust that you will remember well the bargain that you have made here, because nothing will stop me from slaughtering you if I ever know this information has leaked out from that forked tongue of yours. I shall announce to the _current _Major General in my employ that he is 'retired' from active duty. You may then take up his post in the barracks behind the palace's sparring arena—"

Before the King could even finish his sentence, he was interrupted by his flustered, out-of-breath steward flinging the doors to the throne room open. Red in the face with his tail swishing about in an agitated arch behind him, he looked fit to fall down at any given second.

Furious at the intrusion—he had given explicit orders_ not_ to disturb the privacy of his audience tonight—Vegeta snapped.

"_WHAT THE _HELL_ IS THE MEANING OF THIS_?"

The steward's eyes widened with stark terror at his outburst. "Forgive me, Majesty, but it is Prince Vegeta. He has just arrived."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed angrily. "WHAT? Did you not tell him that he was NOT to visit me while I was here? I will have your _head _for this Totepo—!"

"He broke power level, Majesty! He came here _knowing_ your wishes—the prince was simply too excited to quell the impulse to give you the news himself!"

Staring at his now trembling, prostrated servant on the floor, Vegeta no Ou was stunned. _His son had broken record_? Temporarily forgetting that Nappa was even in the room, he could do nothing but goggle in astonishment at the news.

"What was the level?"

"Eighteen thousand."

"EIGHTEEN THOUSAND!" riveted to the spot, he sat backward, head hitting the back of the throne behind him with a loud crack.

"My son has reached eighteen thousand—and at such a young age! I didn't reach eighteen thousand until I was twenty-six! Surely—surely this is a sign. Surely it must be that he will be the one to ascend—"

"Majesty?" the steward flushed, beginning to feel the awkwardness of his situation as Nappa treated him to a dirty-look for the interruption.

Vegeta came back to himself just as abruptly as he had been distracted. He waved the servant off with a flick of his wrist. "Yes, yes. You may go now—just see to it that you tell my son that I shall speak with him when I have finished. As I do not know when that will be, make certain that he is comfortable."

"Yes, Majesty."

Grateful to leave with his head still intact, as soon as the servant scuttled out of the room, Vegeta wasted no time in wresting his thoughts back to the situation at hand, the surprise at his son's recent accomplishment fading to the back of his thoughts for the time being. Opening his mouth to continue their conversation from where they'd left off, the Ou was stopped cold when Nappa decided to cut in, eyes shining with sinister amusement.

"That reminds me: there was just one _other_ little thing that I wanted to discuss with you before we call it a night, Your Majesty…"

~()~()~()~

Fragments of splintered wood that once resembled benches and melted sparring equipment littered the floor of the Royal Training Arena. There were even a few unconscious bodies of the Elite Guard that had been practicing sprawled out among the damage, most likely having sustained concussions and a few broken bones. No matter, though—it didn't pierce through Vegeta no Ouji's peace of mind as he rejoiced in the electrifying sensation of his newfound strength.

_Father will be so proud when Totepo tells him of what I've done, _he reflected, chest swelling at the thought. He had felt like a god for those few split seconds as his power climbed, holding that vast amount of energy together within his body. It was a miracle of nature that his atoms hadn't flown apart when he had hit the peak of it.

_I can't believe that I still had the energy to do it again when I came here_, he thought. It seemed that once he had struggled to reach that level of force, he could now recall it anytime that he wanted, and with much less effort.

Bending over, the younger Vegeta picked up a white towel and draped it over his neck and shoulders, cracking his neck with a sigh of fatigue. He'd never needed a bath so much in his life—his body was exerted beyond all limits and he reeked.

Taking the time to rest, he thought of the chance he had taken at risking his father's anger by coming to Hanna. He knew that he had been specifically told that he wasn't supposed to follow him, but he couldn't wait to deliver the news of what he had accomplished—it was too momentous an occasion.

Vegeta no Ouji had made his passion the pursuit of power—he more than anyone under the tutelage of his father knew that class and strength meant everything in the Saiyan Empire. It could either make or break one's status in life.

Ever since he was old enough to pick up a bow and be trained by the masters, the prince had been molded for greatness. His father had never shown reserve in telling him that he was destined to be the next Super Saiyan, and he fervently believed it. It was what he lived and breathed for.

The Ouji was at the age of twenty-four, the most powerful being on the planet excluding his father. It was only right and universally expected that the next legendary warrior of Vegetasei be its future ruler as well. Anything less would be…impossible.

_Besides,_ he thought, smirking. _The Gods don't have _that_ great a sense of humor_.

He had broken his record when he had been training alone as he normally did. A year had passed since he had sparred with a worthy opponent, and it was unfortunate that there simply wasn't any warrior left that he knew of that could offer him a challenge anymore. Oh, on rare occasions his father had an opportunity to fight with him, but it wasn't regular enough to be satisfying. Dividing his attentions between diplomacy, public appearances and legality, Vegeta no Ou had very little time for his son.

Slipping his blackened gloves off of his hands, Vegeta slowly became aware of how quiet it was in the arena. "It seems I scared everyone off with my firework display!" he exclaimed aloud, snickering as he imagined the guards fleeing for their lives as his power had exploded into a vibrant yellow and orange inferno.

He was just about to stroll off and have that bath he was seeking when the steward returned to him.

"Your Highness, I have seen your father and he speaks well of what you have done. He's magnificently pleased with your efforts."

Vegeta preened at the compliment, purring low in his chest.

"Your father also said that he will see you after he has attended to the matters he came here for...although he does not know how long they will take."

The Saiyan Ouji frowned, pursing his lips. "Oh? Well, I suppose that I have no choice but to wait then. No matter, my excitement has ebbed slightly and I could use the time to bathe and eat something. Gods, I'm too famished to think."

"Certainly, Your Highness. I shall have a bath drawn and waiting for you in your quarters when you have finished dining."

"Very good. Oh, and Totepo? Did he—did he happen to say anything else?"

The servant inclined his head respectfully, care for his young master lending a fondness to his words. "Yes, Your Highness, he did. He said that he believes you will surely be the next Super Saiyan, as do all of us."

~()~()~()~

Later, after he had refreshed himself and the last fingers of daylight had surrendered to the darkness of the evening, Vegeta no Ouji made an impromptu visit to the library.

Trailing a hand through the thin layer of dust that had settled atop his favorite writing desk, he was gripped by sudden yearning. It was a rarity for him to have the opportunity to read anymore. With Frieza's presence, the Saiyan people had become especially desperate in their need to believe that the royal family would eventually deliver them from the evil that they had toiled under for so long. As a result of the unrelenting pressure to live up to his heritage and become the embodiment of the perfect "warrior prince" he was required him to be, his love for academia had suffered.

Choosing a plump, comfortable blue chaise to lounge in, an hour passed before he was interrupted from his pleasant solitude by a firm knock outside the doors.

"Enter."

Gold regalia reflected the orange and red of the fire in the library's hearth as Vegeta no Ou stepped in, mantle rustling behind him. Just before he was fully in the room, the Ouji could not help but observe an exceedingly anxious expression pass over his features. Yet even as it had been there, it was gone again in one smooth ripple, like a wary fish hesitating to surface from deep water. It was just enough for the Prince to almost question his normal view of his father as a reserved, immovable entity that was immune to the lesser worries of the common world.

"You'll have to forgive me, for I wish I could have congratulated you personally on your achievements sooner. Unfortunately there were other obligations that couldn't wait, as you knew before I left."

Vegeta snapped the book shut that he had been reading. "It's alright, father, I didn't really expect to get an immediate reception. It was my choice to come despite what you had made clear to me. While I waited, I've just been enjoying the luxury of having some leisure time to myself."

The Ou nodded.

"Excellent. I think you could use some time away from the arena. At the rate your power is increasing, I'll have to step down before you're thirty."

"Pssh--that would never happen."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" the elder Vegeta smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Prince Vegeta knew that there was something that wasn't being said. Clearing his throat, he made to speak, uncertainty lacing his words.

" I…thank you for coming down here to congratulate me, but did you have something more on your mind? Please excuse me for saying so, but you seem…troubled."

The set of Vegeta no Ou's jaw tightened slightly. _What do I say? I cannot tell him the truth yet—he'll try to flee from the damnable situation._

Feigning a weary air, he relaxed his posture and sat down. "Yes, I suppose you could say that I am 'troubled' as you put it, but merely with the usual concerns. Frieza has sent a new emissary to keep an eye on us—I do not know what this means for our people, but his influence will be even more suffocating now that we have one of his own at court."

"What can we do about it?" the Prince asked out of habit, already knowing the answer.

"The same things that we have been doing—nothing. Oh, we can make his time here a little miserable, but there is not any true action that we may take against him without being severely punished by Frieza. Gods, how I wish that hateful snake would just fall dead tomorrow."

The Ouji cackled. "Ha-ha-ha! If only we could say that to his face—now _that _would be worth seeing."

Feeling a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth, the King refrained from making a similar outburst.

"You know as well as I that these are difficult times that we live in. Our generation does not have the same luxuries now that those that have gone before us did. Even so, I wish for you to know how proud I am to call you my heir."

Such praises were minimal from the Ou, and his rebukes common. So hearing this, Vegeta no Ouji felt suitably humbled, although inside he was positively thrumming with satisfaction.

A companionable silence stretched between them for a few fleeting moments before Vegeta no Ou rose, preparing to retire for the night. "Now I shall leave you as you were before, brat. Don't lose track of the time and stay up reading into the daylight hours, understand?"

"I won't, father."

Knowing his offspring's ways better than that, the King shook his head and departed, leaving Vegeta to his own thoughts once more.

No sooner had the Ou shut the doors to the library behind him than he had clapped his hands together. Almost as if on queue, a tittering servant rushed to his side, awaiting his orders.

"How may I be of service to Your Majesty?"

"Send word to the Namek—you know the one of whom I speak—that the Ou urgently requests his _particular_ services. I need him here at the palace within a fortnight; sooner, if possible. These dealings are not to be made publicly known on pain of death, do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Majesty."

"Good. Now leave me and get on with it."

Watching the servant scramble away from him, Vegeta no Ou thought of the trust and elation he had seen on his son's face when he had spoken well of his successes._ Do not fear, my son. I have no intention of letting you to the lusts of that disgusting fool. Not now, not ever._

Noticing a vase full of fresh blooms attached to the wall nearby his right arm, Vegeta no Ou plucked one out and sliced the head of it off with his nail, smiling grimly.

_He'll soon be gone._

~()~()~()~

Nappa was experiencing the high of his life as the resplendent cab raced over the road back to the winter palace where he would find his new lodgings and his new life waiting for him. As he once again passed through the small, inconsequential village of Katei Saien, an attractive whore that was standing outside of a seedy tavern caught his attentions. Ordering the driver to stop, he gazed at the comely figure of the male before opening the door.

_This calls for a night of celebration_, he grinned.

~()~()~()~

The sounds of smashing glass and the general discord of a brawl greeted Kakarott and Radditz' ears as they argued on whether or not to enter the shabby tavern on the edge of the village. Within lay the inviting glow of lamplight and the lure of alcohol that had already persuaded Kakarott for his part. Now he just needed to convince his brother.

The two had lingered at the market much longer than they had anticipated, and now the younger Saiyan just wanted a drink before returning home. It wasn't helping his cause that Radditz didn't believe him about finishing the field, and was fully expecting that they would be receiving a beating when they went back and Bardock realized that Kakarott had followed Radditz against his wishes.

"I don't feel like delaying the inevitable right now, Kakarott. Besides, if I'm to get shit for you coming after me and not finishing your chores, I'd rather I be sober enough to defend myself when 'Tousan tries to kill me."

Kakarott rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it all. "I realize that you don't believe me, but as I told you before, you'll just have to see for yourself once we return. Father should be pleased that I finished it, so there will be no reason for him to be angry that I decided to catch up with you after."

When Radditz kept peering at him with doubt, Kakarott groaned. "Come _on_ already. It's been awhile since we've had a tankard or two. If I don't get something soon, my throat will be as dry as our pockets."

At his brother's helpless expression, Radditz finally relented. "Alright, already—you win, we can go in. But only for a few minutes."

Kakarott laughed, and slung his arm around the other's neck. "Thanks. You're too good to me sometimes."

"You don't think I know that?" Shoving Kakarott away with a laugh of his own, Radditz steered them into the tavern.

Happy to get his way, Kakarott trailed obediently behind. Instantly seeking the bar, he strolled over and planted both elbows on the counter, murmuring his order to the burly-looking owner of the establishment. Radditz watched as the big Saiyan poured the drinks, narrowing his eyes when he saw him pour the fourth, the seventh, and then the tenth without missing a beat. This would take awhile if that were any indication of the extent of his brother's "thirst."

Taking a seat, Kakarott became aware of a prickling sensation as multiple pairs of eyes roved up and down the length of his body. Glancing to his left, he noticed three resident male prostitutes batting their eyes in his direction and caressing their flesh coquettishly. He basked in the attention and grinned, gifting them with an appreciative, lecherous wink.

Unaware of the exchanges that were taking place beside him, Radditz goggled at the assemblage of frothy tankards that were pushed toward them, sliding across the wood and leaving wet marks. Picking the handles of three up together, he knocked all of them back at once, grimacing at the strength of the aftertaste. Slamming the first few down and taking up two more in his grasp, he slid five his brother's way. "Drink up, Kakarott, you're the one that_ had_ to be here."

Tearing his eyes away from the prostitutes' considerable charms, Kakarott focused on what his brother was saying again. "Oh—yeah, sure. Shouldn't we make a toast or something? How about to putting more fur on our chests."

"Among other things," Radditz deadpanned, lifting the slopping brew to his lips with a flourish.

Some hours later, after losing track of the number of drinks they had imbibed and finding themselves teetering somewhere on the brink of alcoholic bliss and stupidity, each brother could no longer stand up straight.

"Bastard—one day I'm gonna fight you and win." Kakarott whined, poking Radditz solidly in the bridge of his nose with a fingertip. Radditz went cross-eyed and scowled at him, tilting his head back and guzzling another tankard down.

"Maybe when you go through puberty," the elder quipped, earning an unintelligible curse from the younger and a sidekick to his shins beneath the counter.

"That wasn't funny."

"Uh-huh."

Kakarott lifted his hands and covered his ears, forehead wrinkling as though in pain.

"Who's yelling and making all that god-awful noise? They sound like a doobu in breeding season."

Radditz guffawed at his brother, listening to the annoying bellowing that was coming from somewhere across the room. His world spun for a moment before his head caught up with it and he was able to look around for the source of the terrible sound. Finding it at the other end of the dim tavern, he saw that it was actually coming from the mouth of one of the most unattractive Saiyans Radditz had ever seen. The individual composed an odd scene with his considerable bulk hiding most of the stool he was perched on from view. Observing him whispering into the ear of a whore who sat giggling on his lap, Radditz almost gagged as his fat hands traced obscene pathways along the whore's well-defined thighs. Over thirty tankards littered the floor at his feet, and he had a protruding gut from what must have been too many years of overindulgent drinking.

Vague recognition fluttering at the back of Radditz' drunken mind gave him pause to wonder. Nudging Kakarott, he asked, "Isn't that the Ou's former general?"

Kakarott twisted in the stool and nearly fell off of it. "Ack! Hmm…looks like it might be. Wasn't his name 'Nappa', or something like that?"

"I think so. Heh, by the looks of it, I bet the poor bastard won't even remember who he is by the time this night's over. Weren't there rumors that he was discharged for misconduct and raiding of the Ou's wine stores? I thought that he was banished off-planet."

Kakarott thought back for a minute before nodding, dredging up some scattered memories from the years prior. "I'm pretty sure I remember hearing mention of some gossip or other about that. Either way, you've gotta wonder whether it takes an idiot's bravado or a sincere death wish to dare show his face on Vegetasei again if the rumors are true."

The burly bartender that had been attending them leaned in over the counter, having overheard their conversation. "His driver said that he was being reinstated as general at the palace. Beats the hell out of me how someone as disgraced as he was got back on the Ou's good side. Something like that gives the rest of us hope."

"You're shittin' me!" Kakarott and Radditz exclaimed almost at the same time, exchanging looks of mutual shock. Stealing from the Ou was a capital offense—it was a miracle in itself that the bastard was still breathing. Now he was being reinstated? It was unheard of.

Their drunken curiosity piqued, both continued to watch the inebriated Saiyan. It wasn't long before he started shouting his babble again, causing Kakarott and Radditz to break out in sniggers of amusement. "Nappa" seemed to become louder the more he drank, and eventually every customer in the tavern could hear his speech.

"And I said to him: "Hey, this is what I want. Like it or not, Ou, this is how it's gonna *hic* be. I want my title, my money, and my title. Erm, yeah, thass wha I *hick* that's wha I said. Then I ask for hisss son, an it's the bess moment of my life when I watch in his eyes—but I got him anyway. On the colon—uh…I mean the—the _colon-a-tion_, he's gonna announce it to everyone. Mark my words."

The whore didn't seem to be listening to Nappa's blathering, Kakarott and Radditz saw to their further entertainment. Yet Nappa carried on anyway, too intoxicated to realize it.

"—and then I was there, surrounded by pitch blackness. Jus too much sand on tha moon, _too much damn sand_. The cave was dank, but when I saw the *hic* when I saw the thing sittin' there, I say to myself "now, how do you suppose _this_ got 'ere?" Nappa grinned, jowls jiggling with excitement as he made a vulgar gesture and attempted to gain the uninterested whore's notice, who was currently too preoccupied admiring the sack of gold at his hip.

"It was the _Ou_, you see. He shut the Saiyan Prophecy up there! He didn't want anyone to find it out, 'cause it's bad propaganda. Says his clan isn't s'posed to rule, or some shit. Personally, I don't buy in to all those myths. But, hey, it all works out for me in the end—there are 'plenty others out there that _do_."

"What's he going on about now?" Radditz asked his brother, slurping some of the froth from another brew.

"Heh, he's spouting that the Ou has the Saiyan Prophecy and he's been keeping it hidden all this time because it claims that the House of Vegeta aren't the rightful heirs to the throne of Vegetasei. Hell, as far gone as he is, he'll probably start claiming that Frieza wears pink underwear."

Radditz grunted, gazing into his drink as if he could discern the mystery of life in its depths. "Now _that_ is something I'd like to see."

A stricken sound escaped the back of Kakarott's throat, causing Radditz to snap his attention back again to the spectacle across the room. Their mouths slackened in astonishment when Nappa began extracting handful after handful of gold Vegetas from the money sack at his waist, scattering them indifferently across the planked floor of the tavern. The whore that had remained glued to his lap until that moment leaped up from his position at the sound, clamoring to retrieve the coins before anyone else could.

Dazed and feeling ill, Radditz shut his jaw with his hand before an insect could fly into it. "I've never seen so much gold in my life."

"You're telling me," Kakarott was thunderstruck himself.

Kakarott and Radditz were not the only guests of the tavern whose interested eyes had been drawn to the sound of dropping coin. The atmosphere changed as a number of rough faces started talking amongst themselves in low whispers and kept flashing unfriendly glances at Nappa's purse, no doubt planning an assault as soon as the fool ventured outside. In his present state, he was too far gone to have any chance of defending himself. Counting the number of murderous-looking faces in the room, Kakarott decided that then was probably the best time to make a hasty exit. As much as he knew that his brother loved a good fight, they were too drunk to effectively participate.

Draining the last of the liquor from the tankard he nursed, he stood up and motioned for Radditz to follow. Stepping out into the fragrant night air, the two Saiyans took to the skies.

"I bet you three halfcrescents that they'll rob him in the alley behind the tavern and the barmaids will find him wallowing in his own vomit in the morning."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Kakarott yelled, talking over the rush of wind in his face as they flew home. "Why would I make a bet that you're sure to win?"

~()~()~()~

***Vegetas and halfcrescents—Saiyan currency**

~()~()~()~

Arriving home, Kakarott touched down first in the field he had just pruned that day, rubbing irrefutable evidence in his brother's face.

"I _told _you I did it, 'Ditzu,"

Radditz blinked twice, unable to believe what he was seeing. The whole field had been finished, just as Kakarott had said—apparently he_ had_ done what he was supposed to do for once.

"Okay, I give. Now tell me what the hell your secret is so that I'll know next time 'Tousan decides to make _me_ do this. I don't believe it. How the fuck did you do that in such a short amount of time?"

"Talent, I guess."

Chuckling good-naturedly with each other, Kakarott and Radditz sauntered back towards the direction of the den until they paused in their steps upon seeing their father's inscrutable face peer out the porthole window as they approached.

"Shit, he doesn't look very happy," Radditz hastened, drawing closer to Kakarott. "In fact, he looks pretty pissed off."

The younger scoffed. "I don't see what he has to look so rabid about, everything's been done."

"Yeah, well, you know 'Tousan."

"Apparently not," Kakarott muttered, mustering his courage and walking through the entrance first.

Just as he crossed the threshold, his brother directly behind, he felt two hands seize him by the cloth of his gi and slam him against the nearest wall. Cracking his head against it, Kakarott stared dazedly into his father's stony face, realizing that Radditz was wrong: his father wasn't just pissed off. No, his father was _pissed off._

Bewildered by Bardock's uncharacteristic show of aggression towards his brother, Radditz clapped a hand on his father's shoulder, pulling back hesitantly and urging him to release Kakarott. "'Tousan? What's come over you?"

Bardock didn't reply, but instead shrugged his eldest away. Fixing a glare on Kakarott, his eyes had a cold, sharp edge that neither son had ever seen before.

"Do you realize that you could haveruined _everything_ tonight?" he asked, the tone of his voice curt and deceptively calm. Kakarott and Radditz could feel him powering up, his ki jumping dangerously close to the surface.

"Father, I don't know what you're talking about—" Kakarott was cut off as Bardock brought up his forearm and pressed it into his throat, effectively cutting off the rest of his response.

"'TOUSAN!" Radditz shrieked, appalled. Panicking, he powered up and was able to remove his father's offending arm from his brother's throat without injuring either. Managing to twist Bardock's arm behind his back, Radditz shoved him away some distance and made to stand protectively in front of his gasping sibling. He'd never seen his father so angry before. He looked crazed.

Blue and purple veins were bulging down the musculature of Bardock's chorded neck and arms with barely-contained power as he glared at Kakarott. "Do you realize that _EVERYTHING_ that was set in motion today could have been _RUINED_ because of _YOUR INTERFERANCE_?!"

Shocked and unable to process the situation, Kakarott and Radditz couldn't understand what was going on. What was their father ranting about?

Just as unexpected and sudden as Bardock's anger had been, the furious light that had animated him went out of his eyes. Shoulders slumping, he dropped to his knees in defeat.

"You foolish, foolish child," he whispered, raking big, weary hands through locks that were identical to Kakarott's.

Realizing that his brother was no longer in the line of fire, Radditz slowly approached Bardock and squatted down before him.

"'Tousan?"

Bardock didn't answer.

"'_Tousan_?"

At last Bardock looked back up, gaze flickering between each of his stunned sons. Radditz was glad when Bardock seemed to recover himself, standing up from the floor and waving a tired hand for both of them to join him near the hearth.

Kakarott and Radditz glanced at each other in uncertainty, but followed.

"Did anything strange happen when you were at market today, Radditz?"

Frowning at the abruptness of the change in his father, Radditz opened his mouth, and shut it, not knowing what to say. One minute he was about to pulverize his brother for some supposed offense, and the next he was passively asking him questions, not even offering up an explanation for his wild behavior.

"'Tousan, are you sure that you're alri—"

"Yes, I'm_ fine_, Radditz. Just answer the question. Did you _see_ anything out of the ordinary today while in Katei Saien?"

He and his brother exchanged another baffled glance. Kakarott stood some distance to the left behind Radditz, probably more hesitant to come closer out of fear of unintentionally provoking this new, unpredictable side of their father again.

"No. Not that I see how this has to do with anything_._ Explain yourself, Father. What the hell was all that back there? Kakarott hasn't done anything wrong. Why were you about to beat him senseless?"

But Bardock wasn't listening. He appeared to have retreated into himself, walking around a small stone-hewn stool and plopping down heavily upon a thick fur, cradling his head in his hands.

"Gods, maybe it was all a dream. I'm such a fool," he muttered to the room at large. "Such a fool. Everything's ruined."

Radditz tried again, but didn't go to Bardock's side this time. He hoped that despite all appearances, his father really wasn't going crazy.

"What strange things are you talking about, 'Tousan? Kakarott and I are not understanding you."

Kakarott threw up his arms in exasperation, frustrated with his father. He just wanted to go to bed. "Unless he's referring to seeing the crowds of Saiyans, a ton of doobu dung, and a drunken Saiyan raving to a whore about finding the Saiyan Prophecy, I'd say that he's going to be disappointed by our answers, 'Ditzu. That was all pretty average for a day in Katei Saien." he laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bardock's head shot up at the words of his youngest. In two heartbeats, he had stood up and crossed the room to stand before Kakarott, peering at him with feverish, intense eyes. "_What _did you just say?"

Taken aback, Kakarott sputtered. "Oh—yeah. Um, the streets were just full of shit today—"

Bardock rolled his eyes. "No, _baka_! The part about the drunk—you said that he found something?"

Kakarott nodded, nearly snorting again at the memory of the drunken Saiyan General carousing in the tavern. "Yeah, he was sitting in the bar slurring his words, relating the whole thing to a whore that wasn't even listening. He claimed that he had found the 'lost prophecy', and that it was proof that Vegeta isn't supposed to be king or something along those lines. 'Ditzu and I were laughing our asses off to hear him go on about it—he sounded so convinced."

"Did he happen to look familiar?"

"Yeah," Radditz chimed in, interrupting Kakarott. "It was the Ou's former general. His name is—"

"Nappa," Bardock hissed, firelight catching the tips of his fangs.

"Yes, actually—the one that was caught stealing. " Radditz confirmed, exchanging a quizzical glance with an equally bemused Kakarott, who just shrugged in helplessness.

Strangely enough, their words seemed to put their father in better spirits. He was grinning unabashedly now, looked as though he was seeing something far away, black eyes shining like a demon that was dreaming. Kakarott shook his head, just relieved that he seemed to be coming back to his normal state of mind.

"Father, can you now explain what all of this is about?" Radditz groused, still as much at a loss as before.

"What? Oh, yes, yes I can. Come sit with me at the table, you two. I'm about to tell you something that you may not believe at first, but may the Gods strike me dead if it isn't true."

Kakarott groaned, a mulish frown marring his features. "Can't we just call it a night already? 'Tousan, you could always—*yawn*—always just explain whatever it was that was driving you toward the brink of madness in the morning, right?"

"Very funny. I'm afraid not, though. This is something that cannot wait to be heard. Trust me, by the time you two have learned of everything that I'm about to tell you, you'll be glad it didn't wait until the morning. But before I can explain to you why I—well, why I was trying to strangle you, Kakarott, I have to start from the beginning. Sorry about that by the way, son."

"Oh, sure." Kakarott retorted, wondering if his father was really joking about the "strangling" business.

"Tonight, children, after waiting for so many years, the Gods of Vengeance have finally opened their arms to receive us."

~()~()~()~


	2. Bardock's Tale

**Bardock's Story**

**4,000,567 **_V.H._

"_**For sure and certain prophets as the stars,**_

_**Although they err not, he who reads them may."**_

_**--Pedro Calderon De La Barca (Life is a Dream)**_

"Toma!" It just ran under that boulder—oh, don't you see it? It's over there now, you fool!" Celipa yelled, clutching her middle as she shook with spasms of laughter. She was enjoying the show as she watched her mate running through the underbrush in pursuit of a terrified female stoat that kept outsmarting him.

"I almost have—almost--I got her!" Toma crowed, triumph suffusing his rectangular face with color. Holding the flailing animal up by the tail, he made quick work of breaking its neck and depositing it into a brown cloth sack, tossing it backward so it draped over his shoulder.

Bardock was leaning against the solid girth of a tree while he took his sister and brother-in-law's antics in with mirth. Celipa became aware of him smirking at them and flicked her bangs out of her eyes. "So much for a hunting trip to get away from it all, eh, brother? You look bored—I'm surprised that you haven't killed anything yet. What kind of a pathetic excuse for a Saiyan are you?"

His smirk transformed into a grin as she swaggered over to his side, initiating conversation as Toma lifted up the boulder the stoat had crawled under and located its nest full of squirming, hungry young.

"The kind that prefers to leave you two to do all the work, I suppose."

Celipa eyed him dubiously. "You're thinking about her again, aren't you?"

Bardock bowed his head and crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest.

"What makes you think that?"

"Probably the fact that I'm much more of a convincing liar than you are. But it's okay," she playfully rebuked, taking his large hand in hers and patting it. "You try hard. That's what counts."

"Very funny," he mumbled, inhaling a long, deep breath.

"It's understandable, really—ever since Kakarott was born, you haven't had the opportunity to grieve like a proper Saiyan. Most would have left their children to the care of others for a month while they went out alone for a little while in the jungle. But you couldn't—Kakarott was so weak…"

"I'm fine, Celipa."

Toma had just dumped the bodies of the baby stoats into the bag with the mother. Celipa absently applauded him as she tried to pry her brother out of from behind his defenses.

"Alright, alright. I can take a hint, you know. But we three are the only ones out here in this area—if I were you, I'd take some time for myself and go have a look around the land. Maybe some time alone will set you to rights."

Bardock considered what she said, turning it over in his mind. He'd never been so close to Mt. Tane before and the prospect of exploring the jungle and clearing his mind of some of the more burdensome thoughts it had accumulated since his mate's passing sounded like a good idea.

Feeling his sister look at him again, he relented. "_Yes_, you've _won_, is that what you were waiting to hear? If you two won't miss my presence too greatly, I don't see how some time traipsing around the jungle alone with my thoughts could harm anything…" he trailed off.

"We'll be fine. You're not that much fun on a hunting party anyway."

"Oh really?" he glowered at her, grabbing her and throwing her into the air the way he had when they were children. She growled and somersaulted, landing on her feet some distance away with her hands on her hips. Toma glanced over his shoulder at them and chuckled, walking to the other side of their camp to retrieve his tanning knife.

"Okay, _bakayaro_, you've proven your point. In the mean time, I assume that you'll be leaving in the morning, yes? I can't see you turning down dinner that _someone else _went through the trouble to get. While we do all the work, the least you could do is start a damned fire."

~()~()~()~

***since so many fans speculate on the actual name of Bardock's mate, I chose not to outright say what I thought her name was****—I realize that it is a touchy subject for some reason, so I figured it was one of those things best left up to speculation.**

***a stoat is basically an old word for ermine. Though I don't think the Saiyans would have actual ermines on their world, they may have something that looks like it, so what do I know? I just thought that it sounded like a fun word to use.**

***V.H. stands for Vegeta House.**

***Foreshadowing foreshadowing! Ooh.**

~()~()~()~

The next morning, Bardock set off early while his companions still slept on. Celipa was splayed out at her mate's side softly snoring. Both were curled up next to the glowing embers of the banked fire, bellies filled with the meat of Toma's recent kill the night before.

The air was damp and tiny droplets of moisture clung to Bardock's armor as he made his way through the dense vegetation that would lead him to the base of Mt. Tane. It would have been easier and quicker if he had opted to fly, but sometimes doing things the easy way just wasn't any kind of a challenge—and Bardock liked to be challenged.

Hours passed that way, and it was midday before he found himself nearing the ancient volcano. He could tell that he was close because the terrain was rockier, the vegetation sparser. Even the trees began leaning slightly in one direction, an indication of a gradual upward slope. As he continued trudging through the craggy, spongy earth, his mind strayed, prodding old wounds.

_She'd probably think this place was beautiful_, he thought, lips twisting in an expression that resembled a cross between pain and longing, yet was somehow neither.

_Gods, every time I look at that cub, I can't help but think that if it wasn't for—_

Bardock prevented himself from finishing that thought. He could just hear what his sister would say to him if he ever gave her any_ real_ indication of what was on his mind:

_"What the fuck is the matter with you?!" she would interject, her voice raised to that characteristically dangerous pitch only she could effect. "Listen to yourself. I will not hear you tell me that you regret the birth of my nephew! You wanted Kakarott as much as _she_ did. She _died_ to deliver you another son, so don't make her sacrifice in vain if you loved her as you claim."_

_Chastised, Bardock would bow his head, and the truth of his sister's words would strike a chord in him, causing him to experience the full guilt of his conscience that he had been ignoring for months._

"I shouldn't be blaming the cub for what happened," he uttered to himself, finding solace in the sound of his own voice. Yet somehow, no matter how many times he had told himself these things, it always came back to that.

Another hour crawled by before Bardock could finally look up and see the peak of Mt. Tane. Deciding that he had challenged himself enough for one day, he powered up and flew to the mouth of the volcano, boots landing on the edge and disturbing some loose gravel that tumbled down into the dark, gaping chasm.

_It's hard to believe that this is where we all came from_. Sneering, he thought back to the myth that every Saiyan child had been raised on before they were old enough to fight. _I know that some would swear by it, but not me. Give me proof and I'll believe it._

Feeling the bluster of the wind whip his hair, at this altitude Bardock could see everything. The jungle extended almost completely to the point of the horizon line. The only thing that was discernable outside of that vast expanse of green tree-tops was the long river Kawa that snaked a curving, gleaming path across the land. _Still,_ he reflected, finding enjoyment in the timelessness of the scenery, _it's an incredible view from up here_.

He was closer to the suns, and the intensified heat was making him sweat. As Bardock was about to leave, he looked down one last time and noticed a glint of light dance across his vision at the bottom of the canopy floor that was directly beside the base of Tane. Flying off of the precipice, he descended until his face was inches above the rocks that littered the side of the mountain slope, his eyes searching for what he had seen. Spotting it when the light struck it once more, he picked it up out from among the perforated igneous material and spit on the tip of it. Rubbing the corner of it clean, he realized that it was nothing more than a chunk of obsidian.

_There's probably tons of it around here, just like the myth goes._

Pocketing the glossy stone, a strange tingling sensation shot up the hand that he had been holding it in. Frowning, he flexed his fingers, thinking it had been a muscle spasm. For some reason thoughts of his youngest surged to the forefront of his mind again, and this time they were positive ones. "Mmh. Would you like a present, Kakarott?" he wondered, glancing up to the purple hue of the vaulting sky as though it would answer him with his son's unintelligible chatter. He imagined the chubby cub clutching the obsidian in his fist and squealing in delight, tail curling around his arm happily. Grinning, Bardock selected another piece of black stone from the rubble for Radditz and took to the air again, deciding to stay and have a further look around the jungle since there was plenty of day left before he had to return to camp.

~()~()~()~

***Kawa means 'river' in Japanese. I know, not very original, but I couldn't think of anything else, and hey, it sounds pretty.**

~()~()~()~

Radditz leapt into Bardock's arms as soon as he ducked his head into the clan den, winding his own little limbs around his father's thick neck while whooping for joy. "Papa! Grampa Mame, _Papa_!"

Bardock winced as his young son squeezed too tightly, cutting off his air supply. Not taking any notice, Radditz continued to animatedly spout a combination of childish gibberish mixed with the occasional intelligible word into his ear.

"Leave off, brat. Your old man just got home—give him some time to gather his wits before you try to break his wind pipe." Bardock's father barked from the shadowy corner, concentrating on trying to get a gurgling, screaming Kakarott to calm down.

Radditz had the decency to look contrite as he relaxed his hold, springing away from his father. Bardock sighed in relief and pulled the energetic cub close again, ruffling his thick, jagged curtain of hair.

While the two reunited, Celipa and Toma ambled in, shaking the excess water from their hair as they came out of the rain. "Hey, 'Tousan. How've you been holding the fort with these two while we were gone?"

Their father grunted, scratching the back of his neck. "If hell is paved with good intentions, I've probably earned a one-way ticket there having volunteered for this madness."

Bardock chuffed. "Ah, come on, Father. It couldn't have been that bad."

The old, scarred Saiyan snarled, wagging his finger at his children. "So you think. If you give these demons one lick of freedom, they think that they've got the run on you."

Not really listening, Bardock picked Radditz up and carried him over to where Kakarott was abandoned as a lost cause by his grandfather on the palette, crying and struggling to sit himself up on the furs. "_Kaka_?"

Almost immediately, the cub's tantrum ceased, and his eyes opened, growing wide when he saw the familiar face of his father. The biggest smile Bardock had ever seen stretched across Kakarott's mouth as he gazed up at him, cooing in contentment.

"I have something for you both," Bardock murmured, pulling the pieces of volcanic rock he had discovered out of the pockets of his gi.

"Oooh, what _bring_?" Radditz asked, dancing about in excitement.

"See for yourself. For you, 'Ditzu."

Turning the shining piece of black rock over in his hand, Radditz smoothed a finger over the uneven, sharp edges, admiring the texture of it. "Tank y_ou_, papa."

Bardock nodded, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips as he bent to give Kakarott his, holding it up teasingly above his face. "Here you are, chibi."

Reaching out with his small, grasping hands, Kakarott took the obsidian. Bardock helped sit him up so that he wouldn't drop it on his head, watching in amusement as the cub slapped at it and poked it.

"No, _Kaka._ You 'posed hold like_ dis_," Radditz gently rebuked, placing the cub's hands around it so that he could pick it up properly. Awe-struck, Kakarott brought his face down to it, licking along its surface with his pink tongue.

"Ew, Bardock. I think he's trying to eat it."

Twisting his neck around, Bardock glanced down at his youngest, who was now trying to bite the glassy rock with his fang teeth. "Okay, I can see that we need to work with you on this. Give that here, Kakarott."

Snatching the gift away from his son before he could do any more damage, Kakarott started screaming again. Groaning, Bardock made a move to quiet him. Looking at the stone as he set it aside, he did a double-take when he realized that his son's saliva had wiped away most of the dust to reveal strange symbols along its surface.

"Um, 'Tousan? Celipa, Toma? Come here a minute. What do you think this is?"

Gathering in a cluster around Bardock and the two cubs, they each exclaimed their surprise as they beheld the strange writing.

"What do you think this means, Bardock?" Toma questioned, picking up the fragment of obsidian to examine it more closely.

"I have no idea. I've never seen anything like it."

"It looks to me like that's something that belongs in the Ou's royal vaults," their father chimed in, cocking his head to the side in puzzlement as he scrutinized it.

"Whatever it is, I bet the Ou would like to have this in his possession. I mean, where was it that you said you found it again, Bardock? Mt. Tane, was it? For all we know, it could be—well, you _know_. I would think that the Ou's bookworms would salivate over a find like this."

Staring at his sister like she'd grown two heads, Bardock burst out laughing. "You're not serious, Celipa. Tell me that you don't honestly think that _this _could be what you're suggesting."

"Well, do you have any _better_ ideas?"

"It can't be _that_. But whatever it is, I think that you're right: the Ou would probably find it of great interest if I brought it to him. I have to go to headquarters tomorrow—they'll be checking our power levels for our yearly assessments. The King is supposed to be making an appearance, so I will attempt to get an audience with him then."

Celipa glanced around at the mutually mystified faces of her clan and finally settled her attention on her youngest nephew, who was clutching at her finger and watching her with big, intelligent eyes.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" she asked, though it was a statement more than a question.

~()~()~()~

***Bardock and Celipa's father is named "Mame". That's Japanese for "Bean."**

***I know, Radditz' baby talk sucks. What can I say?**

~()~()~()~

The annual evaluations were taking place as Bardock arrived at the headquarters for the Ou's Second Class forces. Recalling how extensively throughout the year he had trained, Bardock was certain that his power had increased tenfold, and that he would undoubtedly be placed for consideration on the recruitment rosters for Vegeta no Ou's Elites.

_Who knows? If this little artifact is of any significant value to the King's scribes, my place may be assured_, he mused, smirking in greeting as three of his comrades passed him in the opposite direction.

Taking his position as the assemblage of troops was called to order, Bardock decided he would bribe one of the King's attending toadies to request a quick audience with Vegeta after he had been through the examination. _Then I'll be able to give the message to him._

Bardock swept an outwardly passive eye over the scores of Saiyan men and the handfuls of Saiyan women that would be contending with him for a place on the list today. Some were tall and lean, while others were stoutly built and compact. But these outward appearances were not to be relied upon—for he knew just as well as any seasoned warrior did that physique didn't necessarily dictate strength or capability. Everywhere Bardock looked, bronze and ivory armor gleamed in the light, highly polished to impress spectators.

"Attention!" piped the guttural voice of the Elite General, "the Ou is here! All bow before His Majesty!"

As one, the marshaled Second Class forces prostrated themselves on the dirt, bending like a wave of water. Even though his face was very close to the ground, Bardock was near the front of the troops and could therefore see over the backs of those before him as the Ou took his seat, accompanied by his current courtesan to oversee the proceedings.

"All rise!" The booming voice of the general bellowed.

Bardock stood again, beating his chest with his right fist in formal greeting.

"Come forth warrior 108589! You will be the first tested."

One by one, the Second Class warriors went up to be read. Such methods of testing usually crept by with excruciating slowness, and Bardock had to continually shift his weight to keep from falling asleep upright.

Observing the Ou from where he was, Bardock could see that he was just as bored, if not more so. Vegeta's eyelids kept fluttering closed every few minutes, russet-colored whiskers moving with each deep exhalation. His courtesan kept giving him sidelong glowers of disapproval, the male's haughty expression complimenting the rugged beauty of his severe features. It was a fortunate thing for him that his financial stability had already been permanently secured when the Ou chose his genes to beget his current heir with. For the royal's notorious loss of interest in his lovers and his penchant for infidelity were well circulated throughout the kingdom, and it was easy to see that their sexual interest in each other was rapidly deteriorating.

After an hour and a half of waiting, it was finally Bardock's turn.

"Warrior 108643—Bardock!"

Striding into the testing area, Bardock stood compliantly before the two Elites that had scouters, each wearing twin expressions of listlessness. He was unsurprised when both of them reacted to the reading of his power level.

"Shit, did you see _that_?"

"Yeah. Either this damned thing is malfunctioning or he's the best that we've seen yet. Bardock is it? Hey Nappa—" the one on the left laughed, calling the Elite General's name—"whaddaya know? This one's got a reading just two hundred marks below yours. Better watch out, he might be after your job if he gets through."

Hearing the tactless evaluator, Nappa flushed in obvious rage and stalked over to inspect Bardock himself. Circling him, he clucked his tongue in blatant disapproval.

"No kidding? Not much to look at, is he?"

Narrowing his eyes, Bardock prevented himself from showing any outward signs that the derogatory observation had hit its mark, knowing that it would only give the General satisfaction. He'd been around enough envious warriors in his time to see when another was merely goading him to get a rise because of their own insecurity.

"He's already made the list, just by having that reading. If he gets through the trials, he'll probably be made an official of some sort. What do you think?" the right evaluator asked the general, obviously enjoying the animosity Nappa was exhibiting towards Bardock.

Turning his nose up at him, Nappa laughed, though there was a hint of steel in his gaze. "I say he doesn't have a chance. Besides, if he gets through to the third round, I'll give him a beating myself just to make sure I knock _this _Second Class all the way down to Third."

At that, Bardock's gaze collided with Nappa's, unflinching. The General was the first to look away, scoffing once before he pivoted on his heel and marched off.

The evaluators sniggered and wrote something down, tearing a piece of parchment to hand half of it to Bardock. "Return with this in two day's time to the sparring arena. We'll be holding the trials there for all that have passed the examination today. You're aware of the rules, correct?"

Bardock nodded.

"Dismissed."

Exiting the tent, he looked around and sighted an attendant that was busily setting a silver tray for the Ou's luncheon. Going over to him, Bardock tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

"I_ told_ you that I wasn't done preparing his food yet! When I have the _damned _time, I'll—"

The servant spun around, a retort that must have been for someone else dying on his lips as he beheld Bardock's taller, brawnier form looming behind him. "Oh—sorry. I thought you were another servant. What do you want?"

"For you to deliver a message to the Ou for me."

The servant sniffed, as though he were above such a request. "What do I look like to you? I don't go around delivering messages for just _anybody_, you know."

Bardock raised an eyebrow. "I'll make it worth your while."

The mention of gold seemed to be enough to pique the other's interest in his cause.

"How_ much_ worth my while?"

"Four halfcrescents."

That started a choking, rattling laughter in the servant's chest. "I've got to eat, here. Make it seven and I'll carry it out with this."

Digging into his pockets, Bardock counted out the pieces and gave him the scrap of leather he had written his message on. When the servant had finished his ministrations, Bardock's eyes followed every step that he took as he balanced the tray and wended his way through the crowd before reaching the Ou. Bowing, the servant left his burden before Vegeta and raced away, smugly fingering his heavier purse.

Selecting an exotic orange fruit from the spread, Vegeta no Ou's hand paused for a moment as it hovered above the platter. He frowned and pursed his lips, seeing the slip of inscribed leather between the dishes. Picking it up, his eyes scanned it before he tore it into pieces and threw it on the ground.

_Well, that's that_, Bardock sighed, disappointed. He was starting to leave when he noticed the Ou make a gesture for one of the officers to approach him. Bending his head to the King, Vegeta leaned in and whispered something into his ear. The Saiyan appeared to recognize something when he moved away, his eyes skimming restlessly over the warriors until they fixed on Bardock. He left the Ou's side and found his way over to him, his open look of curiosity unmistakable.

"Vegeta no Ou will receive you tonight at dusk at the palace, Bardock. He said to bring 'your rock' with you," the officer relayed, apparently not having any idea what His Majesty meant. Bardock certainly wasn't going to volunteer an explanation.

"Thank you. Tell the King that I will be there."

On his way out of the palace grounds, Bardock pulled the satchel apart that was dangling from his belted waist and touched the shiny, black mystery that he knew was about to alter the circumstances of his life.

Unfortunately for him, he never could have imagined just how great a change that would be.

~()~()~()~

Keeping the armor on that he had worn at the evaluations earlier, Bardock's palms itched with nervousness as he ascended the main steps of the imposing structure of the palace. If he had finer garments, he would have dressed in them; as it was, now that he had actually received an audience with the Ou, Bardock was at a loss as to the proper etiquette required.

_Just bow and show subservience. You can't go wrong with that_, he told himself, hoping that he was right.

Two enormous sentries were posted at either sides of the main gates, their staves bearing the royal standard of Vegetasei. Not knowing the protocol, Bardock nevertheless stated his business before attempting to step through. No verbal response was forthcoming, however, as one of the statue-like Saiyans made a conservative movement with his arm to extract a tablet from beneath his chest plate. His head did not move as he read what was on the paper, but the gesture was self-explanatory when after a minute of studying it, he and the other sentry withdrew their bodies from the entryway, allowing passage.

"Um, thanks."

Not expecting a reply at this point and not getting one, Bardock continued on his way until he met a velvet-garbed servant in the courtyard.

"Your name is Bardock?"

"Affirmative," he replied, doing his best not to look overly dazzled with the alien splendor engulfing his senses. All around was finery beyond compare.

"His Majesty has been expecting you. Right this way, please."

Bardock was lead into the King's throne room, where he found the Ou waiting calmly in the ornately carved seat, the long fingers that were drumming against the armrest the only indication of his impatience. Bardock bowed.

"Ah, Bardock. You may rise."

He stood; it was difficult not to feel compelled to obey a voice that was so practiced in commanding an entire race of people.

"You are of course aware that I received your note today at the evaluations."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I would not be standing before you now had I not been aware."

That earned him an amused, almost tolerant look from Vegeta. "I see that your tongue is unschooled in the ways of speaking to royalty. No matter, though—from the way your note described it, I see that you may have something that I want, Bardock. Now give me that which you claim you possess."

Taking the obsidian out of its concealed place in his bag, Bardock walked up to the Ou and placed it in his open palm, keeping a respectful distance away. Bringing it closer to his face, Vegeta slowly scrutinized its every facet. Silently, he traced the carving of the scrawling, primitive text with a fingernail.

"I see what you found so fascinating—I am a lover of great antiquities myself, so it is fortunate that an artifact like this could have the potential to become a part of my private collection. I shall bring it to the attention of my scholars at once, and when they are able to translate it, I will send for you if it reveals itself to have any value to me. If it does, one would expect such a great discovery to be accompanied with a similarly great reward for its discoverer."

"I—thank you; Your Majesty is most generous." Indeed, things were going better than Bardock had ever really anticipated. Some of the tension he had been carrying before left him at the monarch's encouraging words.

"Of course…you are a Second Class, are you not, Bardock?"

"Yes, Majesty."

Vegeta nodded slowly, as if coming to some decision. "I am told that your power has increased at something of an exponential rate since your last annual evaluations were up, and that you wish to join my Elites. Is this true?"

Bardock felt his jaw go slack in amazement. _More than anything_, he thought. "I—yes, with everything that I am, My Lord! This is my desire above all others."

Smiling, Vegeta tapped his chin with one white-gloved finger thoughtfully. "Excellent. You may go now."

Bowing once more, Bardock took his leave, confusion at the abruptness of the conversation's end and something that was suspiciously akin to hope fluttering in his stomach.

He did not see the King turning the rock over in his hand, gazing coolly at his retreating form.

~()~()~()~

*_CRUNCH_*

The sensation of bone crushing beneath Bardock's fist spurred him on in his bloodlust, rousing his desire to inflict further injury upon his adversary.

"Fuck!" the other Saiyan that was fighting him wailed, clutching the side of his face, dark blood gushing out from his broken nose. No mercy could be shown now—it could not be afforded if he wanted to succeed in becoming an Elite.

Not allowing the injured warrior time to recover, Bardock rushed him and delivered a series of punishing round-house kicks to his ribs, though not before the other had managed to fend him off enough to get in a good punch or two of his own through his haze of pain.

Just as he was drawing on his last reserves and powering up to his peak level to try and match Bardock at his own game, Bardock seized the brief interval between increasing power levels and attacked the Saiyan's skull with his Heat Phalanx technique. As soon as his foot connected with his opponent's temple, it was all over—the warrior was down, sent skidding across the floor in unconscious defeat.

"That's the second one that you've trounced, Bardock," yelled the Captain of the Elite Guard. He and a few other elite spectators had been watching the spar with avid attention, roaring with approval each time Bardock came out the victor.

Standing in the arena, a heady rush of triumph washed over him. His chest plate was smeared with blood, while the sweat of his exertions left him reeking with the stench of battle. Yet he wasn't tiring—if anything, these exercises and the echoing of the Ou's words in his head from before had only wetted his appetite to succeed.

Taking a moment to scan the rest of the gymnasium, Bardock was pleased when he saw a number of the warriors he had fostered friendships with fighting similar matches, each like himself vying for a place among the Elites.

_But how many of us will _make_ it there?_ He wondered, waiting for his third and final challenger to arrive.

Bardock was still confident, even when he noticed the Captain and the other Elites talking in low murmurs amongst themselves, darting curious glances his way. He was certain that they were debating on whom they had selected as a challenger for the last round of the trials. Knowing that it would have to be an Elite so that he could demonstrate the skills he had acquired, his expectation to be surprised was pushed to a whole new level when he saw Nappa sauntering up to the ropes, climbing over them while grinning maliciously.

"Let me guess: you volunteered for this, right?" Bardock bit out, resentfully watching as the other began removing his armor and accompanying accoutrements.

Nappa's grin grew impossibly wider at that. "Why not? I'm always willing to show a Second Class Nobody their real place in life."

"Hey, Nappa? Don't you want to keep your equipment on? You're not going for a walk in the garden with this guy, you know."

The Elite General regarded his warriors with little significance, brushing their warnings off like the heckling of birds. Tossing his head back, he readied himself and directed a look of pure scorn at Bardock.

"I won't need it," he bragged. "This will be over all too quickly."

"For _you_, maybe," Bardock growled, crouching into a low, defensive stance.

Mirroring each other, both started circling when the shout to begin was given, each trying to glean knowledge of the other's weaknesses and fighting styles by throwing a few easily deflected punches and kicks.

As the minutes wore on, their dance gradually became more daring, each taking greater risks in their range of motion and techniques. Blocks and strikes blurred as the intensity grew, Nappa biting back an obscenity as he realized that Bardock was quickly gaining the upper hand. Cheers welled from the throats of the spectators as they threw their support behind the taller Saiyan, which infuriated the general all the more.

"I will _not_ lose!" Nappa roared as Bardock cornered him, preparing a knockout blow at precisely the same moment that the General remembered the extra blade he always kept sheathed at his back in the waistband of his sparring pants. Slipping it out while Bardock was distracted, Nappa dealt a calculating strike toward the target of his opponent's groin, causing the punch to graze his head rather than plow into it dead-on. Simultaneously, he raised the hand that held the dagger and brought it down across Bardock's face. Realizing his mistake too late as he saw the curved object capture the light, Bardock didn't have time to react when the blade viciously cut into the left side of his face, drawing a deep, jagged gash into his cheek. Clutching it with a howl of rage as the blood fell in instantaneous rivulets between his fingers, Bardock saw red, barely registering the gasps of surprise that the Elites who had been watching emitted from the sidelines.

"Oh, would you look at _that_: it looks like _I _drew firstblood. You lose, friend."

"General these actions are unjustified! This goes _entirely _against the rules—"

"Who is commanding officer here, scrub?" Nappa threatened, glancing to each of the inscrutable faces of his warriors, daring them to supply any further words of defiance or support for the injured Saiyan.

"Fucking bastard—I'll kill you for that," Bardock spat, hating the underhanded general. There was no way Nappa's actions could have counted as a win—what he had just done was completely debased. Muscles rippling with coiled tension, Bardock was seconds away from launching himself at the cheating Elite General and proving to him exactly how qualified for Elite status he was when events were prevented from escalating further by a trumpet sounding throughout the gymnasium, announcing the arrival of an out-of-breath messenger from the Ou.

"Is the one called 'Bardock' here undergoing trials?" he barked out to the other stunned warriors that dropped their own matches to watch the outcome of the fight between Nappa and Bardock. They pointed toward them and the messenger scurried over, blanching as he noticed Bardock's torn, thunderous face.

"His majesty has requested that I find you at once. He said that it was most urgent."

Eyes burning with unadulterated rage, Bardock stared at Nappa in grim silence at length before he answered the messenger:

"Please tell His Majesty that I will be there shortly—that I do not wish to detain him, but I must seek attention at the medical wing first."

Nodding his understanding, the messenger exited and made his hasty retreat back to the Ou with Bardock's words on his tongue.

The air was charged with an unsatisfied thirst for revenge on Bardock's end as he turned and furiously walked back to his area of the arena, picking up his clean clothing and pulling the soiled tunic off of his body.

"We're not finished with this, Nappa," the taller Saiyan said, his rage still on a very short leash. "Not by a long shot."

Nappa arrogantly folded his arms across his chest as he regarded Bardock. "If you're that hungry for more, feel free to come back tomorrow for another taste. Only this time, it will be more than your face that you will have to worry about me cutting."

With a sneer of disgust, Bardock turned his back and strode away.

"You'll _never_ be an Elite!" Nappa yelled at his retreating form, unaware and uncaring that he had just lost the respect of his men that had been watching.

~()~()~()~

"You sent for me, Majesty?"

Vegeta no Ou's lips curled into a slow, welcoming smile as Bardock entered. Lounging in his throne with his legs dangling languidly over the edge of a marble arm, he was for the entire world the most relaxed Bardock had ever witnessed him to be. The tableau that the king now presented was the complete polar opposite of the normally aloof, composed image that he cultivated.

"Ah, Bardock! I'm very pleased that you are here. My messenger passed on to me that General Nappa took…certain_ liberties_ at your trials today," Vegeta declared, appraising the bandages that had been carefully applied to Bardock's wounded face.

Inclining his head, he avoided the king's gaze.

"_Tsk_, no honor, that one. As I'm sure you've already surmised, he views you as a rival. In his awareness of your strength, he realizes that you pose a particular threat to his position if you were to join my Elites. But what I have called on you for today should give you cause for some cheer in this regard—I wish to discuss the issue of that particular little treasure that you presented to me."

Bardock held his breath, feeling a thrill shudder through him. "My Lord?"

Twisting in his throne until he was in a proper sitting position, Vegeta leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "Do you have any idea at all of what it is that you have found?"

Bardock shook his head. "No, Your Majesty."

Waiting for him to elaborate, Vegeta no Ou must have seen the look of puzzlement play across his features, because he changed tactics and went on to present Bardock with another question instead.

"Tell me: are you a believer?"

Thrown off guard, Bardock raised an eyebrow. "A _believer_, Majesty?"

"Yes; a believer. Do you believe that the first Super Saiyan gave birth to us? Do you believe that he will return to us again?"

_Where is he going with this?_ "I'm not sure what I believe in when it comes to such things, Majesty. What I do know is that it would be a very fantastic tale indeed if it were true."

Watching Bardock's face for a few moments longer, Vegeta's uncharacteristically open expression seemed to close, as though a door had abruptly slammed shut behind his eyes. Although he didn't understand why, Bardock sensed that the King was disappointed with his answer.

Vegeta stood and walked toward the glass doors of the spacious throne room, making no motion for him to follow. Staying where he was, Bardock could do nothing but observe and wonder about his strange behavior and cryptic questions. Staring off toward the direction of the setting suns, Vegeta didn't speak for some long moments, and it was only after Bardock began to debate within himself if he should cough or clear his throat to politely remind him of his existence that Vegeta turned back to regard him once more.

"Never mind. It is enough for you to understand that the object you have found is of great worth to me—_very_ great. But presently there are other things to talk of that I'm sure you'll find more interest in. Would you care for a walk through my private gardens? There's the issue of your reward to discuss, after all."

~()~()~()~

The purging mission had been a complicated one, and Bardock was never more relieved to be returning home. It would be another month before he was scheduled to go off-world again to fulfill the military obligation all classes of Vegeta no Ou's warriors were bound to that regulated the expansion of the Cold Empire, but Bardock was weary of being away from his clan so often. So it was that when the shuttle raced through Vegetasei's violet atmosphere, finally shuddering to a halt safely back in port, all Bardock could think about was eating a hearty meal and seeing his children.

Much had transpired in the seventy-two hours since his last conversation with the Ou, and Bardock was feeling secure in the knowledge of the direction that his life was taking him. He had been elevated to the rank of an Elite, despite Nappa's unsuccessful attempt at discouraging him. Vegeta no Ou was also intending to give the General notice of his impending discharge and instigate Bardock in his stead as the new General of the Elites.

"Heading home already, Bardock?"

Walking down the shuttle's ramp, Bardock twisted his head to the side and regarded a warrior of the fourth division who's name he had trouble remembering. He sighed in affirmation.

"Yes."

The Saiyan raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I didn't think your unit would be returning so soon. You're the first S-2 I've seen back on home base. The schedule still claims that you guys aren't due for another week."

Bardock adjusted the sling of his pack on his shoulder. "I haven't heard anything about the others. All I know is that one minute I was summoned to the Commander's Deck and the next they told me that I had been granted early departure. Whatever the reason, I'm not questioning the good luck. If truth be told, I can use the rest."

The warrior nodded, envy glittering in his eyes for a moment. "Well, I bet it will be a welcome respite to have Sector 2 all to yourself for awhile. While the rest of the clans are away, you should take advantage of it and have your family return to the compound. Are they aware of your arrival?"

"Yeah, I already sent a message when I was preparing to leave the fleet. My father and sister are already looking forward to the peace and quiet. You'd think we were vacationing," Bardock chuckled.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it then. See you," the other saiyan said, waving a friendly farewell as he continued on his way.

Powering up, Bardock shot into the clouds, traveling to the military compound he lived at half of the year with his clan. Although he hadn't been given a specific reason why he had been allotted the privilege to dispense with duty so early, he suspected quite happily that the Ou was impatient for his presence and would be calling on him relatively soon.

_Yes_, thought Bardock as the cold wind chapped his flesh: _fate is currently favoring me with an abundance of good fortune_.

But as he passed over Vegetasei's lush terrain among the smattering of downy clouds, rays of sunlight now and then touching on the vegetation below, the smile he had been wearing began to slip. Seeing a familiar parting of trees drawing closer, he began to make out the tip of the village's single-towered trading station. Up ahead, he could make out swarms of birds fleeing the area as a single black tendril of smoke curled above the forest floor. Almost as soon as he noticed it, his nostrils flared as the smell of burning metals and plastics reached him.

_What the_—Bardock picked up speed, trees flashing past in a blur of green and rust-red as he descended lower. The plume of smoke was too large to be anything as benign as a welcoming fire, unless it had gotten out of control. _And my family isn't so foolish as to start one in the middle of the hottest time of the day_, he knew. Yet from what he had been led to believe, they had to be the only ones in the village complex at this time...

His heart began pounding faster as he neared, and a dark feeling of dread began to insinuate its way into his thoughts. Forcibly pushing it back, Bardock reassured himself that any minute he would catch the familiar sight of his father sitting at the entrance to the den, dreamily chewing a blade of grass as he watched Celipa give Kakarott a bath outside while Toma taught Radditz how to spar in the lonely dirt trail that wound through the tiny military village. Yet as he finally cleared the canopy, he beheld in place of his imagined homecoming the stark picture of a smoldering, partially incinerated structure—his home.

The reddish soil absorbed the impact of his rough landing as Bardock stumbled and landed, numbly turning around in a circle as he attempted to make sense of the nightmare scene that surrounded him. It was the quiet that finally penetrated his stupefied mind, alerting him to the striking contrast between his den and the rest of the buildings, which were disturbingly untouched.

When he found his voice, he called for his family.

"Father? _CELIPA_?!" the silence seemed to intensify when he didn't receive an answer.

"_TOMA_!RADDITZ! KAKAROTT---_WHERE ARE YOU_?!" He repeated himself over and over again, carelessly running toward the rubble as he shouted himself hoarse. Fear quickly overtook him as he continued to call and search for his missing family. He was about to dart in the direction of the outlying forest in case they had retreated into it for safety when he froze in his steps as he heard a painful moan emerge from a copse of trees to his left several feet away. Horror stabbed through him when he discovered the crumpled body of his brother in law.

"_Toma_!" Bardock breathed, air hissing through his teeth as he said his name, face gone pale. His sister's mate lay in a motionless, twisted heap on his side, one of his arms bent in an unnatural angle, a froth of blood seeping from his mouth like an open wound.

Dashing over, Bardock kneeled and lifted his head, cradling it carefully between his palms. Confused, violent shudders wracked Bardock's frame as he attempted to make sense of what had happened. Feeling Toma's hand clench at his dirtied tunic in a futile attempt to drag him closer, Bardock leaned over, watching as his brother in law's eyes cracked open in recognition.

"Bardock," he croaked out, blood clotting his words. "We were...ambushed...t-tried—to fend it off."

Fury rose in Bardock's throat. A million possibilities and questions erupted into his thoughts as he weighed the knowledge that his clan had been deliberately attacked.

"Brother, please tell me—what—where are Celipa and my father? _Where are my children_?"

A terrible coughing fit took Toma then, and Bardock's lips pressed into a hard, thin line as more black blood bubbled from the side of his mouth. _Whoever has done this will not live to see the end of this day_, he vowed.

When Toma managed to gain control again over himself, flesh grown cold with the loss of blood, his head tilted and he rolled his eyes toward the ravaged, smoldering den. "Celipa and Mame were—inside."

A howl of enraged agony involuntarily tore out of Bardock's throat. No honorable adversary was this—his father and sister hadn't even been given a chance to defend themselves out in the open!

Even as he thought that last, Bardock stiffened as he felt a presence emerge out of cover some ten yards behind him. Immediately he felt its purpose, and knew the being to be no other than his family's butcher. His every instinct alerted Bardock that he had been lying in wait and cloaking his energy. Snarling through a haze of red, he whipped around and crouched protectively over Toma's broken body, fists up and body at the ready.

"It seems that I have already had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of your kin, Bardock of Vegetasei. Please allow me to extend my deepest and most heartfelt condolences on their behalf."

Bardock could hear the smirk in his voice, although most of his face was concealed beneath layers of cloth the color of midnight. The eyes were the only feature that were visible, which were now regarding Bardock with what appeared to be a blending of morbid humor and sharp, analytic scrutiny.

Teeth clenching, the hair at the back of Bardock's neck stood on end._ He's sizing me up_.

Despite the fact that this assailant was swathed entirely in loose flowing garments, Bardock could see the definite musculature of a well-honed body shifting restlessly beneath the folds of woven fabric. Yet as formidable as he obviously was, Bardock didn't doubt that he would pulverize him into a pile of useless, bloody meat._ Besides_, he agonized, disbelief causing him to chase the terrible realization over and over again: _my family is dead. What can I possibly have to lose at his point?_

Choking back the flood of emotion, Bardock drew himself to his full height and sneered at his enemy, pouring every inch of loathing he could muster into the expression. He didn't know who the demon was or why he had decided to murder his family, but it didn't matter so much to Bardock then—the reason wouldn't undo what had been done, or alleviate the pain. Because in the end, Bardock would not prolong the parasite's life any longer than necessary in order to kill him. No—the only thing that could possibly assuage the bleeding anguish of Bardock's loss was the irresistible, sweet lure of a revenge killing.

As Bardock powered up, preparing to rush his adversary, he felt Toma's hand reach up and clasp his with failing strength, pulling him back from the edge. "Bardock, listen to me," he rasped, fresh blood pooling from between his lips. "I fought him. While you are stronger than I, you are not strong enough t-to hold a c-cha-ance against him. He is a _regenerationist_."

Mute shock at Toma's speech struck Bardock like a punch to the ribs. _That would mean this fighter would have to be a…a Namek?_

Bardock couldn't believe it. The Nameks were a peaceful race unless otherwise provoked in times of war, as was the case with the Cold Empire. _They are not Saiyans, _he rationalized_: they do not take pride in fashioning warriors of their people. They would never condone one of their own to live their life in service of the Gods of War, let alone one who would commit such vile, spineless atrocities for no reason. Unless…_

Bardock shuddered, refusing to consider it. What he was about to…it simply wasn't possible. _After all, what would one of the most notorious mercenaries in the known galaxies want with him and his unknown, lowborn family?_

A gurgling cough sounded in Toma's throat again, and Bardock knew it to be the sounds of a death knell hammering into place. The numbing grief he felt returned with renewed force as he stared into the familiar eyes.

"Y-you must r-run B-a-ardock. Save…you—save…" with his last breath, Toma's body collapsed, slumping in the dirt. Not even caring if his enemy or the hounds of hell were standing just mere feet away from him at this point, he kneeled down and reverently removed his brother's red head tie, soaked with the sweat of battle and stained with the stench of dirt and blood. Resolutely, he stood and placed it on his own brow, tying it into place. Eyes gone black with an inner maelstrom of darkness, he raised them to meet the burning gaze of his family's murderer. Those hateful, shadowed orbs glittered back at him in response.

Bardock mouthed a silent prayer. He would never see his family again—and his children—Oh Gods, his _children_.

The sound of the murderer's voice piping up again pulled Bardock violently back to himself.

"You should listen to your dead friend there, saiyan. If you surrender now, I will make it a quick death."

A howl of unbridled rage tore from Bardocks throat. Launching himself in the air through his hot tears, he closed the distance with dizzying speed.

The assassin's eyes narrowed, obviously unsurprised. As Bardock was about to collide with him, he pulled back to the side and ducked, slamming his head into Bardock's stomach with such astonishing force, that even with his Saiyan armor on he was sent hurtling into a tree twenty feet away, its bark snapping and cutting his skin as he pulled himself from its surface.

Spinning, Bardock delivered a slashing downward kick toward the area of clothing that covered his enemy's clavicle, the power behind it enough to sever the delicate bone in half and incapacitate the use of his right arm. Yet again, the attack didn't reach its intended target. Instead, Bardock swore as the other dodged his assault once more, practically bending in half backwards only to spring up and brazenly grab his saiyan opponent by the shoulders to bring him into contact with the excruciating jab of a knee into his gut, eliciting a moan of pain. Although Bardock was able to deceive his enemy into the beginnings of a maneuver that would free him up enough to bring his arms around over his head and trap the other into an arm bar, his attempt at further guile was inhibited as his enemy anticipated the gesture and made to jump away, but not before Bardock had managed to get in seven expertly placed blows to the pressure points that occupied the space near his groin.

Perspiration began to prickle on Bardock's brow, though not because of exhaustion, although the effort of holding back his rage and sorrow to keep himself in check was starting to take a toll on him. The thing that was truly causing him to sweat was the realization that he was being toyed with—that Toma could very well have been correct: Bardock wouldn't be able to beat him.

"NOOOO!" he screamed aloud, ruthlessly staving off further uncertainty with a barrage of punches, some of which landed upon the other's face and connected with a satisfying *CRACK!* that left him crowing with vicious glee. He could do this—he had to. For himself and…

_For them_.

Making a split-second decisive move, Bardock leapt into the air and brought his hands together, summoning the full array of his power to him. A swirling electric blue spark jettisoned outward and began spinning so rapidly it created a protective, radiating circle that sent currents of ki shooting back and forth between his fingertips like lightning compressed between two poles.

"_Sai—"_

Bardock spun, gathering his energy. Wrath overflowed the void where his heart had been, like a cup spilling over that was too full. He envisioned the proud face of his father that he would never see again. He envisioned what the unborn children of Celipa and Toma would have looked like if they had lived long enough to produce them.

"_—yan—_"

Most of all, he envisioned living a long, empty life without his sons—those most beloved to him that he would never see mature to manhood, the grief of which was suffocating. Bardock thought of his dead mate, and prayed that they were with her, wherever she was.

Then he let everything go.

"—_SPIRIT_!"

A tidal wave of blinding, scorching light swept through the air and ricocheted off of the ground, tearing a huge, open gash into the soil like a jagged wound as it rocketed toward his adversary. If Bardock had been thinking clearly at the time, he would have wondered why the other hadn't done anything to escape its trajectory. Instead he stared dispassionately as the intensity of his signature attack enveloped the body of his family's murderer, imagining he could see the flesh vaporize in vivid detail.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. Opening them again, he was confronted with a deep crater in the ground that the blast had carved as it reached its climax. Patches of fresh glass littered the sandy soil, resultant of the heat.

It was over.

Descending, Bardock covering his face with his hands and fell to his knees, allowing the full weight of that horrors that had transpired and so abruptly altered the landscape of his life to consume him. What he would do now, he couldn't begin to know. Unfortunately, just as he estimating the uncertainty of his situation, a malevolent, bubbling laughter snapped Bardock back to nightmarish reality.

_No, it's impossible; none that I have ever fought have survived that attack before._

Yet as he slowly turned around, pleading with the Fates for that voice to have been a trick of the wind, he understood that his hopes were to fall on deaf ears. For there, having lifted himself from the recesses of the steaming crater, was the enemy, who was most certainly a Namek after all. As Bardock marveled at the sight, he noticed that the garments, which had previously covered him from head to toe were now no more than scraps hanging from his body, the head wrap reduced to charred ribbons draped haphazardly across his face like unkempt hair.

But what caught Bardock's attention most of all was the fact that his enemy's left arm was gone. As he observed him, the Namek's whole body seemed to give a violent, jerking shudder, and before he could even guess what was happening, a new one had grown in its former place, shining a fresh green in the dull sunlight. Bardock stilled as Toma's words returned to haunt him: "_he's a regenerationist."_

Yet that wasn't the last cruel shock that was in store for him as he stared at the arm, vaguely aware that the Namek was unraveling the remainder of his head covering. When Bardock's gaze returned to his enemy's face, he was utterly unprepared for the paralyzing terror that came up swiftly out of nowhere and rooted him to the spot.

There, standing before him, was the most feared mercenary in the known universe, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Utterly ruthless, the Scourge of the Seven Galaxies, more commonly referred to in hushed murmurs as Piccolo, was the exception to the Namek peace-loving rule. Estranged from his homeworld, Bardock had heard rumors that Piccolo was wanted in four solar systems with charges pending in the other three. The bounty for his capture was so impressive, even the phrase "a king's ransom" didn't do it justice, although with the alien standing so unabashedly confident before Bardock, he couldn't fathom how anyone short of possessing Frieza's, or the Ou's power could ever legally restrain him long enough to bring him into custody for interplanetary execution. Images of Piccolo were so rare to procure the last one that had been taken was when he was in the late stages of Namekian adolescence, though not for want of sightings.

Seeing the abject terror alight across Bardock's face, Piccolo laughed, a deep, unkind sound. His green skin gleamed dully in the daylight.

"Ah, I see that you recognize me now, Bardock of Vegetasei. You Saiyans really are the densest of races, for all that you boast of your physical prowess."

Somehow finding his voice, words came forth like a torrent of water out of Bardock's mouth. "_Why _are you doing _this_?! _Who_ is paying you? Why have—_DAMN_ you—what quarrel does your master have with me? _WHY MY FAMILY_?!"

Swaggering towards him, Piccolo grinned. "Asking questions now? That is very amusing. I have heard what your kind thinks of asking questions of their enemies, and I really must agree: questions are a pointless waste of breath."

As he said this, a beam of red energy sizzled through the air from his antennae, hitting Bardock in the chest and bringing him to his knees with the agony of it. He roared, lips pulled back over his teeth in a perfect caricature of torment. Clutching at the coin-sized hole that had completely burned through the center of his chest between his pectorals, Bardock stared dumbly, pulling his hand away as he watched with a dim, detached fascination as blood welled from the wound. As his vision blackened at the edges, Bardock swayed and fell heavily upon the ground, cheek pressed to the blood-soaked earth beneath his body.

Quietly, Piccolo drew closer until he was beside Bardock's fallen form; squatting down, he pressed his ear close to his mouth, listening. Frowning, he stood once more and gingerly touched his newly regenerated arm, soothing the pain in it with a touch.

"Nothing personal about the family or anything: I'm sure you understand."

As his awareness faded, Bardock felt what must have been spittle strike him in the face as the Namek turned him over with his boot, pilfering his pockets for any valuables that were on him. Finding only two gold Vegetas, Piccolo sighed. "Not much," he mused, "but what can you expect of low-class warrior? I'd be curious to know why King Vegeta was so dead set on exterminating you and your relations—but that's not what they pay me for. Orders are orders, either way." Patting Bardock's bicep sympathetically, he rose to his feet and stepped back, cocking his head to the side. "You should have taken my offer—I _would_ have made it quick. Maybe."

Walking away, Piccolo made short work of the evidence of his crime. _KUCHIKARAKIKOHA_!" he cried, and upon command a blast of energy shot from his mouth and ignited a nearby wattle and daub structure, the flimsy material igniting easily and rapidly escalating into a conflagration of the surrounding area.

Taking to the sky, The Scourge of the Seven Galaxies threw a parting glance over his shoulder and took a last look at his victim. The contract that Vegeta no Ou had drawn up never explicitly stipulated anything about it being paramount to stay and watch the Saiyan die, which there wasn't any doubt of in his mind. _Besides_, Piccolo chuckled, peering down at his ruined clothing: _I could use a new wardrobe. _

~()~()~()~

***Evil Mercenary!Piccolo is such a pimp. That's all I have to say.**

***This Chapter is drama-angst, drama-angst. Would anyone like a healthy dollop of drama-angst?**

***I wanted to use some of the actual techniques that the characters are known to have used in the manga and anime, so I had Piccolo use his Antenna Beam, his Kuchikarakikoha (or a beam shot through the mouth according to Dragonball Wiki) and I had Bardock use his "Saiyan Spirit" attack, which is dubious in its authenticity due to the fact that I jazzed it up quite a bit from the normal volleys of punches that it was supposed to be. Part of it is due to the fact that very little of his custom attacks are elaborated on, and also because on my part, I feel that an attack that is called "Saiyan Spirit" just strikes me as something that deserves a good kick behind it. Saiyan pride demands it, if you will.**

~()~()~()~

_**"Destiny waits in the hand of God, not in the hands of statesmen."**_

_**--T.S. Elliot (Murder in the Cathedral)**_

"_You have failed…"_

"Bardock…"

Bardock's eyes flew open and were met with darkness. The scent of moisture and damp rock clung to the air, while the soft noise of water dripping echoed nearby, surrounding him with a chorus of mysterious, cavernous sound.

Unbearable pain came unbidden into his thoughts. _My clan, all dead—Piccolo hired to kill us—who—why—why—_

_I have failed them all_. Bardock covered his face in miserable, unendurable shame. _Soon their ghosts will be here to plague me with their suffering and avenge themselves on me for my weakness…_

"Hello, Bardock"

Jumping to his feet in alarm at the sound of a voice greeting him out of nowhere, Bardock struck his head against what felt like an overhanging outcrop of rock. He cursed and brought his arms up reflexively to prevent further mishap. _That didn't feel like I'm dead_, he winced. Squinting, Bardock reeled about in a circle but couldn't discover the source of the voice. Warily, he called out to the darkness that surrounded him.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know many things of you, Bardock."

All thoughts of the horrific wrongs that had been committed against him dispersed as the voice spoke to him, soothing his tortured heart and gentling his chaotic, stormy thoughts. This was strange, since the voice, a rich, commanding baritone that reverberated throughout Bardock's bones and affected the very cells in his body, was not soft or mild in the least. He was suddenly overcome with an irrational desire to see the individual who it belonged to.

"If what you say is true, show yourself."

Pregnant silence met his question for so long that Bardock was afraid whoever (or whatever) had spoken to him had left him there, until he at last heard a movement in the darkness shatter it. "Very well," the voice assented, roiling over Bardock's skin like hot, living breath.

Immediately a small, radiant ball of violet fire rushed past his head from out of the surrounding darkness. As Bardock watched with benumbed fascination, it stopped ten feet from him and began rotating, growing to such an intense luminosity that he had to at last avert his gaze and squeeze his eyes shut until from behind his eyelids, he could tell that there was a tremendous explosion of brilliant, searing rays of light. As he sensed it fade to a comfortable glow, Bardock cracked one eye open, then the other once he was sure it was safe to do so.

The ball of fire was gone, but in its place was comfortable glow that allowed Bardock to see that he was in a cave. _Was this the afterlife? _He wondered, awestruck. He did not know.

Taking in the incredible sight of what must have once been an ancient underwater cave, Bardock feasted his eyes on millions of tiny, dazzling salt crystals that littered every visible crevice and recess as spiraling stalagmites jutted down like gnarled, alien tree roots. There was even one that was jutting dangerously close to the floor of the cave. He frowned, rubbing the sore spot on his skull. _That's what I must have hit when I stood up._

A cool draft wafted through the cave, causing Bardock's teeth to chatter. _Weren't the dead supposed to be insensate?_

"You wanted to see me, Bardock. Now is your chance."

The unearthly voice from earlier had returned, and was now at his back. Slowly, Bardock turned and craned his neck upwards as he beheld the tallest, most preternaturally beautiful Saiyan he had ever known.

As he stared, Bardock realized that he was looking at the ideal of what every Saiyan strived to become. With fair, smooth skin, as glorious as an ensnared beam of moonlight stretched taught and supple over a fine, perfectly delineated musculature, Bardock knew that the Saiyan was not of this world.

Garbed in silken pants and scarlet loincloth that were cinched and gathered at the waist, and adorned with gold and jeweled accoutrements, Bardock very much doubted that any other being could present as masterful and regal a picture as the one that this Saiyan did. When his eyes finally lifted to study his face, he knew that he was in the presence of a god.

Bowing low, Bardock knew that he was trembling. Hesitantly, he asked the first question that came to mind:

"Are you the Lord of the Underworld?"

The God-Saiyan laughed, a pleasant, rumbling sound that shook the rough stonewalls of the natural enclosure surrounding them.

"Rise child of mine. I am not the one of whom you inquire after. Pray tell, what is it that leads you to believe that you are dead?"

"I was in battle—and I was fatally injured, I have the hole in my chest here—"

Groping for the hole that had melted through his armor and delivered him into the hands of death, Bardock frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he searched. Slipping his armor to the side, his eyes widened in shock when he splayed his entire hand across his chest and couldn't find the wound.

His head snapped up, feeling the eyes of the god regarding him with warmth.

"How—? Is this possible? I was dead, I—what _is _this place? Who are _you_?"

But it was as if the god had not heard him. Evading Bardock's question, he walked over to a shallow pool, dipping his graceful hands into the water. Ki rippled and slightly increased the temperature of the pool as he did so, creating an incandescent, mirrored surface.

"Come, Bardock."

Inexplicably drawn, he crept closer, standing at the god's side.

"Look well into this water, and tell me what you see."

Mystified by the command, Bardock peered into the center of the pool, straining to see as blurred images gradually began to take shape.

Ferns and towering trees were the first to manifest clearly; next, a wide, tumultuous river tumbling through the jungle floor. Huge, moss-blanketed boulders resided on the banks of the rushing body of water, and perched atop the largest were two small figures, playing with an empty bird's nest.

"No, it—can it be? It's..._my sons_." Bardock whispered, an ache of confusion and indescribable relief flooding through him at the sight.

The God-Saiyan nodded encouragingly, a smile slipping into place across his countenance despite a certain sadness that lingered within the depths of his gaze. "Yes, they live, Bardock. They were saved by your eldest boy's timely decision to take his brother on an outing with him to the river. It is by that action alone that I was able to shield them from the Namek, whispering to their subconscious minds to remain until it was safe."

Wrenching himself from the myriad emotions warring within, Bardock felt the eyes of the Saiyan God upon him once more. He raised his own to them.

"I asked three questions before and you did not answer. If I am not dead as you imply, then how did I survive? Where is this place that you have brought me, and who, in all of the great universe, are you?"

The Saiyan god smiled again. "To address your first, I healed the wound that you sustained; if I had not, it is true that you would have perished and your children would have survived, parentless. Secondly, this, Bardock—" while speaking, the god made an arching motion with his arm in reference to the cavern at large—"is where the great destiny of your line will begin in future's time."

Struggling with the revelation, Bardock blinked. _Had he heard him correctly?_

"Great destiny?" he hastened, waiting for the god to explain.

"Yes, Bardock: the great destiny of your bloodline. For it is the fate of _your_ family that I have watched for many generations, and it is _your_ clan that I have found most worthy among all of my Children. Thus it was, many centuries ago, that I first witnessed a vision of your sons, long before even you yourself were born. Of the two, I have chosen one of them for a great destiny—a destiny that will lead our people into prosperity the likes of which has never before been known."

"_Grandfather Brolly_," he realized. It was not a question.

"Yes."

Bardock fell to his knees.

The Super Saiyan stilled for a moment, turning his head as though listening to some distant sound that only he could hear. Fixing his attentions once more on Bardock, he took a decisive step back.

"You must return to your sons now, Bardock; they grow bored with their play, and I fear that they will leave the safety of their hiding place soon—they mustn't be seen by the Namek. But before leave, I will tell you this: It was Vegeta no Ou that ordered the extermination of your clan."

Confused pain and pure hatred swept through Bardock as he was gripped by the dark truth in the God-Saiyan's words. "Vegeta no Ou? _WHY_? I have committed no wrong against him, he is my king! I was in his favor! WHY HAS HE MURDERED MY FAMILY?"

"Because you knew too much, child. You have found what no other has succeeded in the discovery of—what your fellow Saiyans have searched generation after generation for only to turn up dust and disappointed hopes."

Then suddenly, he knew: "The rock—it wasn't just a rock…it was the—"

"Yes, child. It is my prophecy."

Bardock forgot to breathe.

"Because Vegeta no Ou has misunderstood its true message, he now believes that its very existence threatens the security of his clan's place upon the throne, and it was that fear that has driven him to destroy those which you have held most dear—it is that fear that will one day doom the future of our race if you do not do as I say now, Bardock."

"What must I do? What _can_ I do?"

"You must retrieve it, Bardock. Retrieve the prophecy at all costs—and destroy it."

"How?"

"You will know, when the time comes. But for now, you must go into hiding, Bardock—hide until your children are strong and have become men. Then and only then will come your day of retribution—then and only then will you have your revenge, and will the scales of the future be balanced once more."

"But how will I know when that day has come?" Bardock begged, bewildered as thousands of unsatisfied, unanswered questions swirled within his thoughts.

Grandfather Brolly smiled. "Because I shall give you a gift, Bardock, Son of Vegetasei, one that is rare among our race of people, but I think you'll find will be useful. Go, now—Go! You will know when the time is come."

With these last assurances, Bardock's vision grew hazy and the stark environment of the cave began to fade away. Small, flashing spots of color materialized in and out of existence and danced before his eyes as darkness swam around him and finally enveloped him once more. Yet somewhere still, on the edge of his awareness, he listened as a voice he now recognized to belong to the Father of the Saiyan race continued to whisper:

"_Wake up, Bardock. Wake up…_"

~()~()~()~

Everyone was silent—Radditz and Kakarott regarded their father, someone they had known all of their lives, but perhaps never really _known_ until now, with quiet curiosity and a wealth of other nameless, complex emotions. Bardock didn't press them as they absorbed the fantastic, unbelievable tale he had just related to them.

"So you're of Elite status and you never told us?" Kakarott blurted out, never failing to be the first to break the ice on any occasion.

Bardock raked an uncertain hand through his hair. "There never seemed to be much reason to. We have been in hiding—I didn't want either of you getting any ideas about training and having the hope of increasing your power to become part of the imperial forces. I'm sure you can see why it would have been impossible for you to do so now."

Radditz maintained his silence.

Kakarott's barely-tethered impatience was beginning to get the best of his temper. "You lied to us about Grandpa—you _lied_ to us about Aunt Celipa and Uncle Toma. You said that they had _accidentally_ started the fire and perished in it—you said that—!"

"What could I do?" Bardock bellowed, sending his stool skidding backward across the floor as he stood up and towered over his youngest. "You were children—you weren't even old enough to wipe the drool from your chin! What did you expect me to do? Sit you both down and calmly try to rationalize to you that King Vegeta had hired the most dangerous mercenary ever to live to kill our entire family because he didn't want anyone knowing I had found the fucking lost _Saiyan Prophecy_? A prophecy that he fears will illegitimatize his rule? Did you expect me to tell you that the damned _Legendary Super Saiyan himself _brought me back from the dead and told me that one of my sons has been chosen by him to be the savior of the fucking saiyan race? What did you expect?"

"He's crazy, Radditz. He's fucking _crazy_," Kakarott spat, furious. "Can't you see that we're just wasting our time out here in the jungle with him while we could be living our lives—it's all in his head. We can't continue this way—let's leave before we become as _insane _as he is."

"He's not insane," Radditz murmured, peering down at his clasped hands.

"He's not—_what_?" Kakarott spluttered, surprise coloring his angry voice.

"I SAID, Father is not insane, Kakarott. I remember some things, you know. I don't expect you to though, you were too small; but I remember seeing the hole in 'toosan's armor when he came back for us by the river. There was blood all over him, Kaka—blood _everywhere_, but no injury, when there should have been. I—I also remember—something else, too."

Laying an encouraging hand on his eldest son's shoulder, Bardock urged him on. "What was it, Radditz?"

"A—a voice. A voice in my head—at first I just though it was me imagining things, but I remember that it _gave_ me the idea to take Kakarott down to the river to play—and I obeyed it. It told me to stay there and…and wait for you."

"This is ridiculous," the younger saiyan rolled his eyes. "Now you're defending _his_ madness with your own!"

Raising himself calmly to his feet, Radditz locked eyes with his brother, pinning him in his tracks. Kakarott opened his mouth to say more, then thought better of it after seeing the look that he was fixing him with.

"It is not _madness_, Kakarott—believe me, I would never have thought so before, but it all adds up—remember the nightmares that I use to have when I was younger? They were all of _Piccolo_, and not because I was scared of a few tall tales designed to put children to bed on time. I dreamt of him like I'd met him before, Kakarott—like I was connected to him somehow…and now I know why. He killed our family."

"This—but, if all of this is true—and that's a _big_ 'if'—what are we going to do about it?

Bardock rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "We do what Grandfather Brolly said was to be done—we retrieve the prophecy and destroy it."

Kakarott groaned, throwing up his hands. "Just how are we to do that, exactly, if we don't even know where it is?"

"Oh, but we do," Bardock smirked. "You yourself told me that you heard Nappa spilling his guts about finding the King's hiding place for it. Now we just have to find Nappa, then we'll drag it out of him."

"The owner of the tavern said that he is being reinstated as the Major General of the Elites," Radditz said.

"That mean's he is probably blackmailing him."

"But how do we destroy the prophecy when we get it?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet."

"'TOOSAN!"

"I told you—Grandfather Brolly told me that I would know everything in time. That's one of the gifts he has given me—the Sight. Haven't you ever wondered why I'll know some things before they happen? Things I can't possibly know for sure, but I manage to get them down to even the minutest details nevertheless?"

Radditz chortled. "Like the time you got sick with fever, Kakarott, and Father told you that you were just going through early Oozaru rut. I didn't believe him since it's so rare, and even when I took you into the village to get four doctors to take a look at you, none of them could figure out what was wrong. A week later you broke out of your room and we had to comb the damned jungle for you for two days before we could find you and convince you to come back with us."

Kakarott's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Point taken."

Nodding, Radditz averted his attention once more to Bardock. "As incredible as all of this is, I'm able to somehow accept it—there's just two things I still don't understand, 'toosan: what's all of this about one of us being chosen?"

"I don't know exactly. All I was told is that '_one of my sons will have a great destiny—and will bring prosperity to the saiyan race_.' As far as which one of you it is—I know that, already."

Kakarott snorted.

"It's you, Radditz."

Taken aback in alarm, the longhaired saiyan blinked, mouth turning down at the corners. "How do you know for sure, Father? I certainly don't _feel_ like I'm Chosen."

"Maybe chosen to clean the vomit off the floor when I mess all over myself after hearing that."

"_KAKAROTT_!"

"Sorry."

Bardock cast a baleful glare in his youngest cub's direction. "I don't know if being 'Chosen' _is_ supposed to feel differently, Son. What I do know is that you have all of the potential—you're intelligent, brave, and you're definitely _NOT_ Third Class—despite what I have led you to believe for your own protection throughout the years."

Radditz' brows furrowed. "But what if I'm not, Father? What if Kakarott is?"

Watching his father's reaction closely, Kakarott's heart squeezed slightly as he listened with little surprise to the reply that his brother received. He folded his arms over his chest and did his best to pretend that he didn't care.

"That's impossible, 'Ditzu. Kakarott—he's _younger_ than you are. He's not—"

"Go on, 'toosan, you can say it: I'm not strong enough."

Bardock shook his head, a sneer of disgust settling upon his mouth. "That's not what I meant, you're just—"

"No," Kakarott cut him off, daring him to deny it still. "That's _exactly _what you meant, and don't stand here and lie to the both of us. I've _always_ known how you feel about me—I've always known that I'm the disappointment of the clan—and given what you told us earlier, I now know that you also still blame me for our mother's death. Thanks, 'toosan. Thanks a lot."

Bardock's hackles rose. He rounded the table and confronted his son, practically bringing them nose-to-nose with each other. "Now you're pissing me off, _brat_—"

"But it's true, isn't it father?" Radditz queried, quickly slithering in between their bodies to keep the only two remaining kin he had left from killing each other.

"What? Now you're taking _his _side—!"

"Yes. Kakarott is right, 'toosan—I know it as well as he does, though I've tried to ignore it for years. You've _always _treated him differently from me, and I won't abide by it any longer. Either Kakarott is just as much a part of this clan as I am, or we're _not _clan."

Kakarott's breath hitched in his throat at his brother's speech. Thankful for once that he had finally come to support him with a defense of a different kind, he wound his tail around Radditz', just like when they were children and things came easy between them.

Bardock gazed back and forth between the twin stony expressions of his children. Sighing, he relented.

"I'm sorry. I—I'm sorry, Kaka. I know I've always been hard on you—and I know that I shouldn't blame you for things that were beyond your control. That will stop now—I just want you to know that—that I'm _sorry_. It ends here."

Nodding in acknowledgment of his father's apology, Kakarott didn't reply.

Sensing some of the hostility leave the den, Radditz clapped his hands together, breaking the lapse into uncomfortable silence once more. "Okay—now that we've got everything out in the open, how are we going to go about this? What's the plan?"

"I've got a few ideas," Bardock chimed.

"I still think you're both mad, just so you know," Kakarott muttered under his breath.

He meant it.

~()~()~()~

**~Part I finis~**

~()~()~()~

**Be on the look out for Part II of the Golden Saiyan in the coming months--now is where the plot thickens and boils over, and the great romance that will decide the fate of Vegetasei will take place.**

**Thank you for reading this.**

**--BlackDeath. **


End file.
